


Auburn Sky

by VixxDer



Series: Sherlock Holmes: Hawkeye Series [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 01, Season/Series 02, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2019-09-05 14:47:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 59,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16812802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VixxDer/pseuds/VixxDer
Summary: Sherlock can store anything he finds useful to him in his mind palace working like a hard drive. Helena can memorize a map of a city and make the fastest routes possible. The two are found as complete bizarre people; freaks. One a detective the other a crook. Prides too strong that they need one another. [SherlockxOC]





	1. Chapter 1

Some would say the best views of London can be found in the most obvious locations. The London Eye, Big Ben, some say Tower Bridge. One person would argue to the death that those are wrong. A person known as Hawkeye says the top of a tower dubbed The Shard is the only place to see all of London. Most attempted to see from there, only scaling the tallest tower of the Europe Union can earn one the stunning view.

Only a scattered few have succeeded, but only done it once and never again. The result of failure was not death, of course. No one has gone far enough to earn death, not before getting reported to authorities. This hasn't stopped Hawkeye, nothing can stop her. She saw the world differently than normal people, she found it as her way of thriving her very eventful life. Normal people just see London as a crowded, bustling city and nothing more. Hawk though, she saw things that made her both glare and grin down at the city. Two different worlds in people; the rich selfish ones and the poor struggling ones.

That fact wasn't what made Hawkeye special, her name did have a purpose. When scaling buildings and eyes of the sky she saw maps, hidden locations, escape routes, and safe places to sleep. She had London in the palm of her hand. All it took was took was one glance and Hawkeye can see her flawless 'strolls' through the city.

Cold, it's always cold in London, England itself is a cold damp country. A slight shiver ran down her spine as a passing gust of chilly morning air rolled by. She took in a deep breath of fresh air closing her eyes, letting her arms stretch out. It was like floating, if only it could last forever. A smile stretched out onto her features. Yes, this was heaven to Hawkeye.

"Is someone up there?"

"I see a figure!"

"Don't be stupid! Who would be insane enough to even be up there?"

"Looks like a statue."

"Wait! Let me take a photo!"

These were constant comments made when bystanders saw someone on a roof. Hawkeye disappeared before any more attention could be brought to her. Though this time was different and attention Hawkeye hated. Once that was brought, it was sure enough to bring trouble to her peaceful moment. The distant sound of sirens made her open those chocolate brown eyes to glance down. Yup, there were the infamous white and blue flashing lights and display of a crowd. The hood over Hawkeye's brown red hair helped some not know who she was and hide her face in case cameras tried to zoom in on her. Wearing dark jeans, boots, and a hooded jacket helped her hide in the shadows. Police constantly mistook her of a male; mostly thanks to her appearance and style of fighting. They've never been close enough to actually see her face.

The smile faded but her arms stayed out. This wasn't the first time Hawkeye was reported of her 'spectacular' stunts. If not this, than the reports were made against her crimes on the streets.

"Don't tell me it's him."Groaned the voice of the stressed Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade exiting the car that had just pulled up. His short gray hair was as messed up as it could be, just woken up to this call. Eyes blinked from getting the tired out of it as he adjusted his tan coat against the cold. Police worked fast to keep people at bay, as some scrambled to find the security of the building for questions. So far they claimed to not see her, which was aggravating to hear.

"What did you expect?" Sergeant Sally Donovan replied who was just as annoyed as he was. "This time he's got quite the display." He raised a brow at her words, she nodded her head up. He followed her and just groaned rubbing his eyes, he just loved attention didn't he?

"So what's the plan? Send up a team or have an ambulance nearby?" She asked getting her walkie ready. They never needed to call one, thank God. But Sally always wanted one by in case an accident were to occur. She would be more ready to call a coroner than ambulance knowing Hawkeye's heights.

"In all honesty, I rather just leave him up there." He mumbled mostly to himself. Greg looked back up, eyes shooting wide at the sight. "What the hell is-"

Before Lestrade could even think of an action to take, Hawkeye starting scaling herself down. People were in awe of this, the fact movements almost like a spider or monkey. No one's ever seen someone do this, or even think it was possible! Was this a creature or human? Some questioned, mostly the authorities.

"Maybe we can catch him this time." Greg told, with little to no hope in it.

Sally shrugged, crossing her arms. "We've chased him for months, maybe he's finally given up."

Hawkeye was about quarter of the way down, then stopped and slipped his thin frame through the metal works and onto the floor much to the crowd's shock. That would've taken some strong effort against gravity and his own weight. All the police cared to notice was he was inside with no way out!

"Go! Go in now!" Barked off Lestrade as officers poured inside. They both followed after yelling, "We'll block him off! He can't get out any other way!"

Donovan, Lestrade, and the officers towered the emergency stairwell. They kept climbing and climbing, but no sign of the trouble maker. Echoes of panting and stomping would've given Hawkeye the warning of police chasing after him. It wasn't until a half hour later they were growing tired and stopped half way up the building. Lestrade leaned on the railing looking down in case they missed any floors or see any movement. Donovan looked up for anything as well.

"This is getting us nowhere! Where is he hiding!?" Lestrade yelled running a sweaty hand through his short hair. They had checked all the floors they passed, nothing at all.

The Sargent clicked her walkie earning a high beep, and spoke into it. "Report, anything?"

Static came through along with voices of the officers standing by elevators. _"Nothing here, Sargent. No movements out front either."_ Another static and high pitch beep rang through. _"We're at the highest floor, nothing."_

Hawkeye had to be somewhere. The group was going to continue moving up, when static returned to the walkie. They all froze as Donovan moved her brown curls from her caramel face as she brought the walkie closer to listen. "Yeah, what is it?"

Over the static in the background sounded like a woman fretting over something. _"We have a report of a stolen jewelry article. The woman here claims her wedding ring was snatched off her hand."_

_"It was! Even my husband can never get it off!"_ She cried nearby, she had a different accent. Hard to place, though it sounded Spanish

The two made eye contact, with a knowing look. Lestrade gave an aggravated groan, slamming his hands on the railing. He ignored the pain, his frustration was stronger. "How the hell does he do it!?"

Lestrade and Donavan left the building as the remaining officers stayed to inspect it. They approached the one officer standing with a distraught woman and a teenager, no doubt her daughter.

"Anyone make any hand contact with your hand, ma'am?" Lestrade asked her.  


The woman sniffled and shook her head, but paused. "Oh, there was this one person who fell in the crowd, I helped them up. I didn't even feel it being taken off!" The daughter comforted her crying mother, assuring her father would understand.

Down the street, wearing an old beat up brown cap with a small union jack sewn on the front covered her features from prying eyes with a low head. A smirk was cemented onto her face as she held the possibly expensive diamond jewelry in her pocket, clutched in her gloved hand. Hawkeye looked back sneering as she watched the woman have a mini heart attack. It was nothing but an object of love, what purpose could that be to life? Hawkeye scoffed, love was an excuse.

Just as she was crossing the street, a bus was leaving a stop. Mentally mapping the bus routes, Hawkeye tossed her hood over her head, letting the bus pass. She took a short run behind it, grabbed the bottom rim of the back window and latched her boots onto the small bumper which was no trouble for her. People gave odd looks, but assumed she was a trouble making teen. The thought on this morning's event being a bust was no longer plaguing Hawkeye's mind; it was worth it.

  
  


The telly was a marvelous invention. Whole purpose to entertain people with mindless dribble. The dribble can be good, most of the time it can be counted as crap television. But now, it was covering all the channels on breaking news.

* * *

At the flat of 221b Baker Street, the same channel was on the 32 inch Samsung television that was perched on a stand behind a chair left of the fireplace in the living room. It was rarely used, sometimes its purpose was questioned. When used, it was only the news channel airing on there. But it was kept there for when the news was needed. Today, the news was being ignored by Sherlock Holmes.

In the kitchen, boxes being opened can be heard along with clinking of glasses tapping and hitting one another. The telly wasn't even given attention while the news station carried on. Piles of papers, opened boxes and other unorganized assortments scattered the flat along with newly placed furniture. It didn't seem to bother the tenant, as he was responsible of the mess. There was no one to complain about it, other than the landlady.

Carefully the dark haired tall man started putting his chemistry set together in deep silence and concentration as to not break anything. Near black brown curls hung off his head in a messy manner. Hands ruffled through the curls making them more loose and bouncy as he finished screwing the tubes together. Razor sharp ice blue eyes scanned over to make sure it was perfectly secure. Deeming it worthy of use he decided to give it a test run, he strode through the fridge in search of something. Where did he put that bag of ears?

_"Now on the scene, police refuse to tell us what exactly was on top of Shard Tower early this morning. Witnesses reported it looked to be a statue, some say it was a person."_ The blond male reporter informed with a crowd of people behind police tape.

A roll of the eyes and a scoff was earned, he got annoyed by the news now. Sherlock couldn't find his ears, deciding to blame the fact they were left at St. Bart's. With long strides, he moved to the living room in search of the remote to turn the telly off. Shoving papers around as the news man continued his report. The thought of organizing popped to his mind for a brief moment.

_"I swear, it wasn't a statue! I got video of the person climbing down the bloody tower!"_ Exclaimed one teenage boy taking his phone out and holding it to the camera. _"It was like a monkey or something."_

"Finally!" Exclaimed the detective.

He pointed the remote at the t.v. ready to put it to rest. Though his thumb just hovered over the red button, his focus on the video recording on the mobile phone. A black figure scaling down the corner metal structure of Shard Tower. Sherlock's arm slowly lowered as he took slow careful steps toward the screen and crouched down in front of it.

The black figured continued scaling down with ease, it stopped though and slipped through the metal bars getting inside the building. Sherlock narrowed his eyes, hands pressed together with the remote sandwiched between gently and brought up just below his nose and against his lips.

_"What happened after the figure got inside the building?"_ He asked the teen who pulled his mobile from the camera.

_"The police just instantly went crazy!"_ He exclaimed waving his arms as the reporter stepped back. _"They all yelled and just ran in there like-like someone had a gun or something!"_

_"Do you think this mysterious figure is a threat or in even a terrorist?"_ Sherlock resisted to groan at the stupidity he was witnessing.

_"I-I-I wouldn't say that..."_ The teen stuttered looking nervous and excited at the same time. Obviously not wanting to cause a panic or rumors spread of such a thing. _"It would be pretty killer to see who it was, though!"_

The teen soon left after feeling a bit under pressure on the questions the reporter was giving. Sherlock continued watching, waiting if anything else was given. He dug a hand into his pocket fishing something out.

_"Oh, there's the Inspector of police. He just emerged from the building."_ The camera moved over showing a stressed and out of breath Lestrade. _"Inspector Lestrade! What of the person? Are they in custody? Was it a threat in any way?"_

Lestrade frowned at the camera then at the man. _"No, no, just some..."_ He took a deep breath, still tired from going up and down the stairwell. _"Just some crazy dare devil is all."_

"Wrong." Muttered Sherlock clicking send on his phone.

_"If that is true, why were the police so keen on-"_ The sound of a chime went off. Lestrade checked his phone, frown got deeper. He looked back down refusing to give more attention to it. " _I-If you wish to ask more, please refrain from doing so."_ He glanced around. _"The whole situation is under control. No one is in any danger, it's completely safe. We just wanted to keep crowd control and-"_

Sherlock muted the telly at that time to save himself the trouble of Lestrade's rant. He stayed in that position on the floor, going into his Mind Palace. Analyzing the video, words of witness, and Lestrade's statement. Within a few seconds, Sherlock determined the person's purpose of being on top of Shard Tower.

Soon Sherlock turned the television off leaving the remote on the stand to keep track of it. "Now, where was I?"

The detective stood, fixing his bleach white shirt and unrolling his sleeves. His black trousers the shirt was tucked into hugged his thin lean frame with the help of a matching black belt. He slipped on his black blazer buttoning it and threw on his long wool dark coat.

"Oh yes," He looped the blue scarf around his neck a smirk on his lips. "My ears." Sherlock rushed down and out of his flat. Shoes clacked down the pavement, calling a cab for a ride to St. Barts.

* * *

The night had fallen, but the morning’s event was still lingering. Hawkeye managed to stay out of sight easily from prying eyes of scattered officers. She was sure D.I. Lestrade told all officers to keep an eye out and she wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. After her little escape, Hawk's been hearing people go on about it on their phones. It made her growl in annoyance, she never wanted this attention. She just wanted her perfect peaceful view of London. Stupid bystanders.

Hawkeye was currently jumping roof to roof of flat buildings heading to her next location. It was a big far, but worth it for her goal. She reached the end of the roof of flats, how jump a huge gap between her spot and a gas station. Sure, she can parkour throughout London, but even she had limits.

Dark brown eyes scanned around instantly finding a fire escape. Her boots pounded the gavel and she perched onto the edge, starting her climb case by case. Going down the stairs themselves would be too tedious and time consuming for her. It only took her half a minute at most, dropping herself to the ground with ease. Thoughts drifted to her success of snatching the ring off that woman as she walked down the road. Hawkeye gave the ring another look that was now perched on her left ring finger. She kept it there so it wouldn't fly out of her pockets when jumping.

Lights shined on her, Hawkeye glanced up wincing. She grinned seeing the bright half dead neon lights. 'Ferry's Pawn Shop' was a cheap hidden and forgotten pawn shop by the Thames. It was located between two big buildings, so it was never given a second glance. Another bigger known pawn shop down the street didn't give much hope either. But Hawkeye only went to this one for her traded goods. The bell rung as the glass door opened signaling a new customer. It smelled of smoke, weed from the back.

"Ferry!" She barked out, taking her hood off. "Your favorite customer is here!" Hawk knew she was safe here. Her reddish brown hair fell around her neck in thick layers. A hand combed through, so greasy and unkempt.

From the back an arm moved the clacking wooden beads substituting a door to the back as the owner emerged. He has a clean shaved head that was always hidden under a bandana. Today's was red with orange skulls printed over it. Sunglasses perched onto his nose concealing his eye, his blond soul patch was stroked with pride as if it was a trophy. Ferry wore a shirt with words that read 'don't be cocky' with a rooster on the back. Blue navy jeans hung off his hips staying in place thanks to the belt, the clap of his sandals smacked the tile floor.

Ferry beamed at the sight of the woman and engulfed her into a tight hug. The man was bone thin so it couldn't beat Hawk's tense fit body hidden under the clothing. "You've been smoking again." She pointed out, poking his rib to let her go.

The bald man waved her hand away, pulling back. "It keeps the day fun." He excused in his Brooklyn accent, clearly from America. He sauntered over to the glass case counter where all the jewelry was on display. He leaned his sharp elbows on the glass, eyes on her.

"What can I do ya for?" Ferry knew why Hawk came by; pawn her jewelry. "What sad prick leave ya this time?"

"Nothing too gaudy, I assure." Hawk teased as she showed her finger with the ring.

Ferry held up his loupe that hung around his neck and gently took her hand to hold it steady, getting a good look at it. He was silent as Hawk looked around casually, the shop contained different sections of antiques, jewelry, kitchen appliances, computers, and phones. Despite Ferry was a lazy sod, he was highly organized and kept everything perfectly displayed. He took pride of it in his shop and was eager to have something new to sell. It impressed Hawk.

"A’right," Ferry took in some air tilting her hand, she looked back to listen to his results. "Real diamond." She grinned with a nod. "Round cut stone class with enhanced, the weight is about… 1/10 at best. Settin' is to be a pavé sterlin' silver n' by a guess, I'd have to say he was Irish?" The ring was in the shape of a four leaf clover, Hawk guessed the woman's husband was indeed Irish.

"Luck of the Irish, he always said." She shrugged giving a lopsided grin, though it was careless.

"Not much luck for ya there, huh?" He asked letting her hand go as she took the ring off and placed it on the class with a light clink to it.

"How much for it, Fer?"

The man tilted his head back and forth to decide and coughed into his elbow. "I'd say," He cleared his throat. "We're lookin’ at about eighty-nine dollars, but in pounds..." He took his mobile out to convert the money, Ferry was still trying to get used to British pounds compared to American dollars. "Fifty-five at most. N' that's just for ya, I don't make these deals with anyone."

Hawk grinned, "I'll take it! No receipt, remember." she wagged her finger at him.

"Of course!" He assured, taking the ring and returning to the back.

Hawk looked down at the case display, seeing if anything she had brought in was bought off. Some necklaces were still there, rings, but a pair of earrings she snatched off a week ago were gone. "How much did you sell the earrings for?" She called looking over.

He returned and looked up from counting the bills. "A good amount." Was all he answered. "Here ya are, hope it heals that heart of yours too."

She rolled her eyes, taking the money and hid it away into her bra under her jacket. "You know me, I never have a broken heart."

Ferry leaned against the display arms crossed. "How is it ya get into these relationships n' not have a broken heart?" He grinned. "You're not a gold digger, are ya?"

Hawk gasped pressing a hand to her heart. "You dare accuse me of such a thing?" She mocked and covered her mouth holding up the act, causing Ferry to laugh. "I could be worst things, my good sir. But a gold digger, I am not!"

"A’right, a’right." He waved chuckling. "Was it an engagement ring?"

"No, just some two week anniversary bullshit." She waved off. "He was pretty obsessed, so I broke this one off."

"Must be if he payed a hefty price over a two week relationship."

Hawk looked at the time on the clock wall and reached for her hood. "I better get going. I'll stop by for a visit tomorrow?"

"No need," Ferry waved off, "Tomorrow takin’ the day off." he told.

Her eyes glanced to the back seeing movement. Hawk nodded, biting her lip to fight back a knowing grin. "Understood. Well, have a good night and relaxing day off." Hawk gave, tossing her hood over her head.

"Be safe, Helena!" He called out as she left his shop, walking back up the street she came from.

Deeming it fine to walk the streets, Hawkeye -or also known as Helena- let her hood drop, hands stuffed in her pockets; Striding down the street, passing shops and restaurants. She passed by people not giving a second glance to her. Her stomach growled, she was hungry. Helena had the money to get herself well earned meal, but she couldn't do that. The money was towards another more important matter than her selfish needs. She shook her head, ridding the thoughts of food which was hard to do with her location. The smells of fresh meat and boiled pasta was making her stomach growl more.  


Her shoulder rammed into someone's side. Her eyes shot up, "Sorry." She gave softly, moving over to get a look at the person. The coat and high collar was no help, but she saw pale skin, dark hair, and shocking electric eyes.

He nodded to her and continued his long strides down the pavement. Helena gave one last glance before looking down to her hand, holding the contents of items she got from the man.

"Too easy." She snickered, shoving them in her jacket pocket to look them over later. Pick-pocketing coats were nothing to her, and those were deep pockets. Though she felt a bag of something wet inside the man’s pocket and it was cold.

* * *

Alright, he got his ears and had a good meal. Back at his flat he was content to work with his chemistry set like a child. Standing in front of the door he searched for his keys, a frown came when he found none in his coat pockets. Sherlock knocked on the door, hoping Mrs. Hudson was there or heard it. Luck would have it, she did as her face appeared behind the door when it opened.

"Sherlock dear, don't tell me you lost those keys already?" She asked, moving aside for him to enter. She shut and locked the door watching him ascend up the stairs.

"Apparently so." He continued his way up.

"Do check if you misplaced them!" She called up to him and returned to her flat of 221a.

Sherlock didn't really listen as he entered his flat, taking off his coat and scarf hanging them by the door. He got the needed test tubes, beakers and his blow torch set up. Eager, Sherlock fished for the bag of ears from his coat pocket, examining them. Perfect, they weren't damaged in the travel. Sherlock strode to the kitchen, beginning his experiment on the ears.

Three in the morning and he was still silently working on this. Ears spread out now clean of blood, most were torched and others were sutured. Currently, Sherlock was looking into his microscope examining at the blood cells in the clit ear, the small dish beside him was skin cells of the burnt ears he had. He was perfectly content, then smirked.

"There it is." He muttered and reached into his shirt pocket. Strange, not there.

Sherlock stood and walked over to his coat searching his pockets, at that moment he frowned. Both pockets were clean empty when they shouldn't be. He kept important things in there; gloves, magnifier, notebook, toolkit, and even his mobile phone. Just to make sure Sherlock checked his trouser pockets; nothing. Blue sharp eyes scanned the kitchen, living room, boxes, bedroom, bathroom. Nothing!

"Mrs. Hudson!" He bellowed out barreling down the stairs in a rush. Said landlady reemerged seeing Sherlock lean over the railing to see her. "No one has been in the flat, yes?"

"No one at all, dear." She assured. "I've been here all day and the door was locked. I would've heard someone come in, if so."

Sherlock knew Mrs. Hudson was old, but not enough to lose her hearing. Not when living that close to the entrance of the building. He did see everything was in the exact same place as he left, so no one had entered his flat.

"Is something wrong?" She asked with concern on her face.

"Might be." Sherlock bounded up the stairs, leaving a confused Mrs. Hudson at the bottom of them.  


The detective was not one to misplace things, the keys were a slip. Sure, he forgot things at St. Barts, but he always remembered to fetch them. His keys, kit, and other essentials he always kept in his coat pockets. He slid the coat on checking the pockets again, still empty. He frowned checking any other pockets on his person, he then caught a whiff of something. Sniffing, he brought his left hand up, sniffing his fingers; oil. Grease to be exact, the kind found on metals and pipes. Sherlock sniffed the inside of his pocket, it smelled of it. Why did it smell of that? He had no contact of it at all.

Mrs. Hudson came up just to see Sherlock thinking in the middle of his living room, eyes closed. Retracing his steps from Bart's to the flat. He had gone to get the ears, after Molly asked about them, he answered briefly and left. Continuing his walk, he picked up dinner at a chip shop he knew, so not there. His walk was silent after that, until he rammed into someone, then returned finding his items gone. His memory froze, going back to the person. Attire; black with brown hat, thin. Clothing is tattered and worn barely washed. Gender; female. Age; late 20s at best, 27. Facial; hidden but eyes were dark brown and hair was a reddish brown ringing around their shoulders and neck. Obviously not washed or cut in so long, overgrown. The person was homeless, this was enough to go on. He replayed the scene of ramming into him to figure out how she did it.

"You sure you didn't misplace them?” Mrs. Hudson asked, taking a look around the messy room. “It's such a mess, one could always lose things."

"Pick pocket." He suddenly answered, grabbing his scarf.

She turned to him. "Pardon?"

He looked to her as he looped his scarf around his neck. "I'll be back late. Don't wait up or touch anything in the kitchen." Sherlock rushed out, almost in anger.

Mrs. Hudson was lost and concerned for when she heard the term, 'pickpocket'. She mumbled about how horrible to have pickpockets on the street and looked into the kitchen. The second she spotted the ears, she rushed out and back to her flat horrified by the ears he was so eager to work on that night.

* * *

"What is this stuff!?" Helena barked to herself, looking at the new stuff she had nicked off the man a few hours ago.

She found herself safely perched on a Chinese shop, not too far where she gained this new stuff. A slim sliding magnifier, a pair of leather gloves -sadly too big for her hands-, some keys, notebook full of chicken scratch, a toolkit of weird instruments, and one object she glared at; a mobile phone. She had no intention of taking a phone, but she scooped what her hands had caught.

Currently, she was looking through this kit seeing the weird objects it held. Some she knew of forceps, blades, caliper- Was this man she pick-pocketed a criminal himself? The chicken scratch Helena looked over was something of another language. Not because of what was written, but the hand writing. Small, but written too fast for her. Helena did see some related to science such as formulas and some pages had big words almost like answers to a question.

"Maybe a scientist." She figured and looked at the magnifier, playing with it like a child. She clicked it open and closed, finding it interesting. "What money do I make of this stuff? I never had this before."

Usually it would be money, small trinkets. This was beyond trinkets. Helena put the notebook, toolkit, and gloves in separate pockets then glared back at the phone. Maybe she should leave it be? If she took it, she didn't have to answer it. She'd have her own phone, use the service as much as she wanted. But then again, it would be a risk to do so. Someone could know the number and track it. That thought alone made her stand and step away from it as if it was deadly.

The device suddenly rang off echoing into the night, causing Helena to jump away from it like a cat reacting to a blender. Someone calling? No, it went off once, so it was a text message. She lowered to crouch in front of it and pressed a button as the screen lit up. 'one new message' it read. Helena pressed the green button and it opened with the message, she leaned in to read it.

**Whoever owns this, return it.**

That alone made her heart skip, the person knew they took the phone! She had to abandon it now- No, get rid of it! If they found it on the roof, the police reports and they'd know it was her and be on her case even more, knowing she'd be on rooftops. Helena picked up the phone, tossed her hood up and ran to the ladder leading up. She slid down with ease, landing to the cemented ground of the alleyway. With a quick two second map out, she decided to toss the phone into the Thames.

"I would return that if I were you." Came a deep velvet voice.

Helena froze and turned, glad her hood was over her head. Never can trust who was lurking. She didn't speak but kept her fists up in case.

"I have no intention of this, I assure." The clacking of shoes of echoed, Helena stepped back into the street light, not a soul on the said street as shops were closed and people would be sleeping. It was a quiet part of London that Helena found herself at night the most. But never was she caught like this, for deep voiced person was the exact person she had pick pocketed from that early evening.

Dark curly hair, bright piercing eyes, pale skin, and that damned long coat that surrounded his tall slim figure. She took in his appearance, never seen or encountered this man. She didn't know him so he wasn't part of the police, but then again could be under cover. And here Helena was, being confronted by a man possibly working under that damned Lestrade. Helena mentally cussed at herself for not being cautious of her recent act.

The man sighed with his hands clasped behind his back, he looked a bit between crossed at her but also bored. Bored? Was she reading his expression correctly? No, no, that was what a bored look was. Roll of the eyes counted for annoyance, but he indeed looked bored.

"All I want is for my items back with no intention of a scuffle, if you please." He told, holding a hand out expecting the items back. "This isn't an offer." He added.

Helena smirked, she made a bolt down the road. He had long legs, could he keep up? She heard the clack of his shoes and looked behind her seeing him not to far behind. Ah! A runner! Helena now had a challenge. Her Mind Map found the perfect route, ignoring the oncoming car, she ran right across the street, causing the driver to pound the breaks and yelling curses her way.

Sherlock kept up, just about dodging the next car from hitting him. He expected this wouldn’t be easy, so he was prepared for anything, this homeless crook had to throw at him. He estimated if they continued this way, his long legs would get him to catch up to the thief. Just as Sherlock was within reach, the woman took a sharp turn into a narrow street, Sherlock jumped back scuttling through. Thankful for his thin frame to fit as he saw the figure pop out the other end, he sped up. Once out, looking around he heard metal clanging. Blue eyes shot up, widening at the sight before him.

Helena kept her sneer as she climbed up the fence with ease and perched herself on top looking down. He took a breath and threw himself onto the fence shaking it as he climbed, not as fast or smooth as she did. She shook her head and stood on the pipe of it and balanced herself to trapeze across causing the man to pause.

Was this who he thought it was? The figure on the telly? Sherlock Holmes was robbed by the show off on top of Shard Tower!? Just the fact he was robbed baffled him enough. He watched as the figure got onto the roof and hopped on top and turned back. Sherlock just got to the top and grasped onto the metal with dear life watching the figure. With a swift slap of her hand on her bicep, she threw up a fist that gripped the phone giving him a good old known signal that just made Sherlock's blood boil. She found this amusing!

A snicker erupted her as she turned and climbed on top the steep roof. Helena took her balance gently and climbed on the other end of the roof sliding down the the lower flat roof next to it. "That was simple.." She told herself as she strode across to find an exit.

Sherlock currently struggled to get across to that roof. He swung from his tight grip on the metal pole for once thankful he didn't have gloves. Then again if he had his gloves and other items he wouldn't be chasing this thief, now would he? It took some time, but he got himself within reached and hoisted himself onto the roof. Not giving time to catch his breath he scampered over the side, glaring the figure who held a stride like this was a walk in the park.

Oh, he was a determined man, man on a mission some say. That just made her heart beat faster, no one got this far to catch her. But Helena knew he would never catch her; no one did. If Lestrade and his police force couldn't catch her, what made him think he could?

"One last… Warning." Sherlock panted sliding off the angled roof and onto the flat one. He was highly composed, other than the rare effort he gave to getting to her and his anger on getting his stuff back. "If not the phone.. At least everything else."

Helena watched him, he didn't move or make anything of a threat. He was really desperate to get his stuff back unlike anyone else she robbed. They can always buy it back and replace things. This man, he didn't think that. Sentiment? No, if this was sentiment he'd be begging or force the items from her with threats. Only emotions she saw was annoyance and slight anger. Helena found no value to these items. She slowly emptied her pockets, tossing the gloves, kit, and notebook onto the gravel ground in front of her.

Sherlock made no move to get the items, seeing the phone still in her grip. "You're her right?" Helena's brows rose. "Shard Tower."

Ohh, so he saw it? Helena looked at her hand with the phone in it, watching him in the corner of her eyes she went through the phone for more information. She didn't see him in the crowd so she guessed from the news. No Google history on his phone on this, so he didn't research. She went into contacts, not many but one name caught her eye. 'Lestrade.' The sight of the name made her chuck the phone with the other positions, as if it burned her. She ran over to the edge of the building, spotting a trash truck with bags of trash in the back bin beneath them.

Sherlock jogged over inspecting the damage to his items. His mobile seemed fine as well as his kit and notebook. "Tell Lestrade," He looked up seeing the figure turned to him as the sun was now noticed in the horizon, she removed her hat as the hair fell and a wide grin wide on her lips. Her skin was pale but her cheeks were rosy with a single dimple in her right cheek. Her brown eyes were dark but almost glowed in the rising sunlight.  


Hawkeye was doing something more risky than ever, but this man. Something about this man proved he was different than other people. A strong gust of morning wind blew right by letting her hair fly about. "The name's Hawkeye." She stated stepping up onto the ledge. "I'm one of the good guys."

Hawkeye extended her hand holding her hat out and stepped back letting gravity take her. Rushing to his feet, Sherlock leaned gingerly over the edge, nothing was there. His brows knotted searching if this 'Hawkeye' was hanging off of something or was running off down the street. But he saw no sight of her. With a tired sigh, he turned to collected his items and continued onto the roof until he found a fire escape to climb down from. No way was he struggling down that chain link fence again.

The truck honked loudly as it entered the main street, drivers unbeknownst of their little carry on in the back. Watching the sky turn from dark blue to a blue gray was entertaining enough to the grinning girl. Despite feeling sharp things, she fell on some good garbage. Thankfully no one threw glass away in trash and recycled it. She'd remember the name she saw in the information of that phone; Sherlock.

"Well, isn't that a unique name for a unique man." She muttered leaning back to enjoy the ride until her stop would arrive.

* * *

Days had went by since the sighting of Hawkeye on Shard Tower and Sherlock's meeting with said person. He had gotten his ear evidence to a case he was on to Lestrade as well as the message Hawkeye had. Lestrade questioned on it, Sherlock gave a brief description of being robbed of the little thief. Donovan had a bit of a laugh at the thought of Sherlock Holmes being outsmarted by a street pick pocketer. Lestrade, knowing the name this person is called Hawkeye, told all officers to keep an eye out and ask around. Though Sherlock shared all this information, he withheld the fact Hawkeye was not a male as the other had assumed so. Lestrade never asked so he never told.

After a week, Hawkeye had been quiet in the movement of crimes and stunts. She'd chills above roof tops now and then. Hawk had seen Sherlock mostly by that Bart's hospital. Never been on the rooftop, she made a mental note to scale it sometime. The view didn't match Shard Tower, but Helena was sure it was still a beautiful sight.

Ever since that encounter she's felt more off her game. Helena shoved off the thought that it was just a shaken feeling from her meeting with Sherlock. Standing above an apartment building, she looked down at her hand where she cut herself not too long ago. Didn't seem serious, so she ignored it. Helena though has felt pain in her neck and wiped some sweat from her forehead. It was cold and she wasn't straining herself so why the sweat? Shaking her head, Hawkeye sat down with a heavy sigh watching the building in front of her.

221b Baker Street. She had passed this street many times without a thought, so when she saw the tall dark pale man enter through the door with said plated numbers gave her the word this was his flat. Within a few days of knowing him, she saw another man enter. Shorter with clean cut blond hair, a limp and dressed in a simple jacket, jumper, and jeans with black shoes. Helena saw he was stiff in his stance and walk, was it the limp that caused it? When she recently saw the man again, he had no cane or limp, he walked stiffly still as if on march. While watching the flat on her tired days, she saw the windows with movement inside. Helena could easily scale those windows and climb in- Child's play. The thought made her giggle, what a heart attack to give him to what she could sell in the flat. If anything were of worth to her there.

Hawk gave a thick swallow and stood, deciding to scale herself down and walk among the streets. A stumble was in her step, but away from the edge, thankfully. She made her way to the fire escape on the side of the building, her sight growing dizzy.  


Why did he even bother? Should've taken more time to move in but, what choice did he have. Not that he should complain, his flat mate was the most pain in the arse in the world… Well, to him at times. John Watson walked his way back up to Baker Street after being texted by Sherlock to meet somewhere. Though when he arrived, Sherlock wasn't there. Then was texted again saying he was at Bart's and no longer needed. John started this whole helping cases with Sherlock with no trouble, but when Sherlock texted him, it drove him up a wall at the sudden drop of a hat.

He looked across the street seeing the flat, when he heard noises from a narrow alley. John turned frowning with knotted brows. It sounded like, whimpering, crying? "Hello?" He called, being cautious as he leaned in. "Are you alright?"

Suddenly out of nowhere- **Thud**! John gasped at the sudden drop of someone hitting the pavement. Seeing movement, he rushed to their side finding them to be alive. The body was shivering and having small spasms. A seizer, John questioned. No, only the legs and neck are having these. He checked her forehead; fever and high with sweating. Her pulse; rapid heartbeat and difficulty breathing. John noticed a wound on her hand looking a bit infected, then he found the reason for this. Without hesitance Dr. Watson got his mobile out dialing 9-9-9. Like a good doctor, he stayed by the girl crying in pain from the spasms and breathing. He sat her up as gently as he could against the wall and stayed right by her.

Sherlock wasn't one for walks, so he was currently sitting in a cab trying to get a hold of John. He sent about five texts and no response. Surely he was fine, probably ignoring him like he did the other day asking for his laptop that was two feet away from him. He felt the cab jolt a bit and move to the side, Sherlock glanced up at the sound of sirens and saw an ambulance speed right by. It stopped right across from his flat, as he knocked on the glass.

"Here's fine." Sherlock informed. He climbed out paying the cabbie, as it drove off passing the growing scene.

As the tall man strode past, he approached his door taking one final glance. Sherlock did a double take- What was John doing there? He spun and jogged across the street approaching John who was talking to a paramedic. Sherlock was more curious than concern, if anyone could even mistake that.

"High fever, muscle spasms, rapid heart rate; I'd say tetanus but- Sherlock?" John turned just to see his flatmate arrived with furrowed brows.

"What happened?" He asked, his mind between the possible thought something happened to John and this turning to a crime scene right outside the flat. What a calling that would be. He scanned John over, he was fine so Sherlock diminished that thought.

"I was walking back from your text," John started, giving a short look. Oh, so he was still annoyed by that. "And then this, poor girl fell from above. Almost out of nowhere with muscle spasms." He explained, nodding down the ally way.  


Maybe Sherlock had walked in right at a becoming crime scene? Eager to see, he moved aside from John to lean in. His growing grin faded at the sight before him; Hawkeye. He never imagined to run into this girl again but he had, and this was a bizarre way for it to happen. The medical team were gently putting the scrawny ill girl onto the gurney while stimulating her the best they could. The men moved as they rolled her into the back of the ambulance.  


"Thanks." John sighed. The paramedic climbed into the vehicle, turning the sirens on and drove down speeding to the hospital. "Well, that was an event."

John rubbed the creases in his forehead looking up to Sherlock. He noticed his expression changed a bit from before. "Sherlock?"

Sherlock watched the ambulance take the strange woman away, "Good job, John." he suddenly praised.  


John chewed his lip thinking on his words. "I would say thank you, but the look on your face tells me you mean it in a different way." He licked his lips crossing his arms. "What was good?"

Sherlock glanced down to his doctor. "You just caught a criminal." He eyed down the street before turned to cross the street back to the flat.

John frowned with knotted brows confused watching his flatmate walk away. "...Sorry, what?"


	2. Chapter 2

"Sherlock!" Yelled John as he stomped up the steps after the tall detective to their flat. "Sherlock," he called again as they entered said flat. "What did you mean?"

"Mean what?" Sherlock asked innocently, shrugging his coat off and going to an open laptop on the desk. More or less John's, he hung the coat over his chair by the fireplace. Long fingers sped across the keys.

John blinked at him and scurried to the window looking outside as attention started dispersing. "You said, 'good job, John. You caught a criminal'." He said imitating Sherlock's low tone.

Sherlock rose a brow when he heard it, he did not sound like that. "Yes." He agreed to the quote.

"Why?"

"...Because you did." He told slowly, not seeing how John was confused by this. "Good job." Sherlock praised with short smile and returned to typing.

John rolled his eyes and walked over, slamming the laptop shut almost on Sherlock's fingers before snatching them out of the way. "A little elaboration would be most appreciated, as you love doing so."

"Well, if you were to move your hands off the laptop, I can 'elaborate' to you all you wish." He told, pointedly patting the laptop.

John moved his hands letting Sherlock open the laptop to the page he was on. He hovered behind the detective to see what he wanted to show. The page on the screen was of the Shard Tower Incident. John remembered hearing about this after a therapy session he had, but thought nothing of it.

"There was a 'dare devil', as Lestrade put it, standing on the top of Shard Tower. The person was chased by police once he started climbing down and into the building. Lestrade never caught him as people started gathering, causing a scene, as well as the media's involvement."  He stood letting John take the seat while Sherlock softly paced continuing on. " After a video from a bystander was shown, I had already deduced how he had escape without anyone noticing-"

"Sherlock," John cut off, much to Sherlock's annoyance of that. "How does this connect to the girl sent to the hospital?"

Sherlock blinked as if given a stupid question to answer. "...Well, think about it John; The girl fell out of nowhere, almost from the sky. Why would a woman with signs of Tetanus fall out of thin air and how?"

It took a while, but John leaned back in realization and pointed to the page, brows shooting up. "She was the one- But you said it was male."

"False claims," He dismissed, hands now behind his back, still pacing around. "She is mistaken as male by police from her skills, figure, and attire. Common occurrence by idiots."

John resisted to sigh, but just nodded to seem like he agreed. "How does this make her a criminal? Sure, climbing towers and buildings isn't a law, but I guess one can get fined or such."

Sherlock cleared his throat to continue, making John turn his attention back to him. "All the while the police were inside, a woman was robbed of her wedding ring in the crowd. She claims it was a tight fit on her finger and it was impossible for her to remove it herself unless soaked in something to loosen it."

That pause in this usually meant for John to put in his thought. "..Something like butter."

"Or grease."

"Grease? Like, cooking grease?"

"Oil."

"O-Oil? Where would they get oil?" John asked, completely lost at this.

Sherlock grinned, oh lord. "That's where  _ she  _ comes into play. The police think she's still inside, but she had already made it out, to the ground and through the crowd. What could she have on her to grease the ring to slip it off?" Sherlock moved to show the video of her climbing down for John to see.

John watched, getting the idea. "So, she got the grease oils from the metals right?"

"Wrong." Sherlock bluntly told moving away.

John frowned. "Wrong?...Then w-where? It's the only metal I see her touching." John leaned in to rewatch the video, a bit dumbfounded. "Where else could she get her fingers greased enough to-" When John turned to Sherlock, he was gone. The sound of the front door opening made the doctor jump to his feet and jog down the stairs to catch up with him to wherever they were going.

* * *

Comfort. Why was she feeling comfort? Comfort was something she hadn't felt in years. Why now? Comfort was a bad sign, warmth too. Warmth and comfort, two bad things. Taking in a sharp breath smelling bleach and latex, she was somewhere clean. Ignoring the soreness in her muscles, Helena moved her body blinked her eyes open. Something tugged her arm and tightness was around her chest down her waist. This tightness was found to be a blanket keeping her in the bed, and the tugging of her arm was from an I.V. to a metal stand.

Helena felt a tightness in her chest and breathing a bit harder then waking up, ripping the I.V. from her arm not caring about the small bleeding or pain. Her attire was a hospital gown that was tied to the side, good no exposing. Helena slipped from the bed and onto her feet, but the numb feeling was still there from her spasms. She struggled to walking to the window, trying to work the locks. It didn't help her injured hand was wrapped after being treated.

The door opened as that moment. "Alright, I'm Dr. -What are you doing!?"

Finally snapping the lock open, Helena started climbing out but the doctor ran over grabbing her arm not letting her out to do God knows what. "Let me out! Let me go!" She cried clawing his hand off her. The drugs made her a bit dizzy still but she was feeling closed in, which was causing her heart beat to speed up and breathing to become rapid.

"Please, calm down! You're ill and need to be in bed!" The doctor demanded now pulling her by the waist as she lost her footing. "I'll have to sedate you if you don't calm down!"

Helena threw an elbow at the man's face causing him to let go and hold his nose in pain. This caused her to fall to the ground and scramble for the window. A nurse heard yelling and came in seeing the sight before her, thankfully she had more sedation for her muscles. The doctor took it as the nurse grabbed her around the waist pulling her from the window, the doctor injected the drugs into her.

"I can't be in here! You can't lock me up!" She screeched, but soon was crying nonsense before collapsing in the nurse's arms.

* * *

"Sorry, we can't let anyone but family members in to see her." Said the nurse at the front desk looking at the men strangely. "Unless you are family, we can't let you through."

"I understand all that, I'm a doctor myself. I just wanted my own examination on her, if alright." John tried to excuse, as Sherlock looked around like a bored child.

Despite it looked like John dragged Sherlock, it was vise versa. Sherlock wanted to see Hawkeye for a few answers to how she got the ring for John and confirm he was right. This was becoming difficult as the stupid people of this building had to have the 'family only' rule to seeing patients.

"Unless you are her personal doctor, sir, I can't-"

"O-Oh! But that's it, I am!" John gave with that idea popping up "Dr. John Watson, I was the one who called for an ambulance for her."

"...And him?" She asking pointing her pen at Sherlock who now looked over.

Sherlock gave a fake smile. "I'm his doctor in training." John gave a quick look before turning back for the nurse to see. "See," Sherlock approached leaning on the desk with a caring look. Fake. "When I heard about one of his patients had gotten ill, I wanted to come by and assist in anyway. Learning about the human body and helping them is something of my passion, and not letting us see her, it's..." Sherlock looked down and back up with glossy eyes. "...It breaks my heart just seeing her struggle without Dr. Watson here assessing her."

John was split between wanting to punch Sherlock or just down right laugh at his words. How could anyone fall for that malarkey? "Ohh, I totally understand you." She gave, softly patting his hand. Okay, maybe this woman would. She let lead the two down the hall, explaining the latest with her. "She may still be sedated, but if you are here she might calm down without the drugs. I heard restraints might be needed if she acts up again."

"Once she sees us, she should be calm." John said, but had little hope in his words that it would work.

The nurse opened the door peeking in, the clatter of her clipboard and a gasp echoed. The men looked through seeing it empty. The nurse ran off calling for a doctor as the two entered the room to investigate. John went to the bed putting his hand there, it was warm so she wasn't gone for long.

"John." Sherlock called across the room.

John turned seeing Sherlock looking out an open window. He rushed over leaning out, looking around. "She wouldn't! If the drugs are still in her, she could fall off the building!"

"Only one way to find out." Sherlock grinned and left to find a way to the roof with John following.

* * *

The fresh air of no toxins and no tight enclosed spaces made her feel so much better. It was cold as hell, but Helena was used to cold by now, still she wished she had her jacket. A blue dot perched on the edge of the hospital wasn't the best thought to her. Although when seeing structure nearly covering the building made it easy for her to climb without sight, but it took a while thanks to the damn drugs. At times her foot slipped or she didn't have tight enough grip, but she made it. The thought made Helena grin tiredly, not even drugs can keep her down. Nonetheless, she was still slightly sick and knew she needed the drugs and rest, but didn't want to be in that enclosed tight room. Being in the open, seeing and feeling no walls made her feel relaxed enough to take the roof as her spot for resting.

"And to think," Helena turned hearing the door squeak. The drugs made her mind a bit slow so her reaction was a bit dulled. "I expected your body to be hanging off somewhere."

She found the man called Sherlock waltzing over to her with the nervous looking blond man. He took smaller shorter steps almost as if being careful around her. "I don't plan to jump." She gave softly, hand rubbing at her bandages. "So you don't have to tiptoe over to me."

"She is right John, if she managed to climb up here half affected by the drugs, what purpose would she gain from jumping here compared to her window?" Sherlock mused, standing behind her as she sat with her feet dangling off the edge.

"So, has Lestrade’s hound dog come to capture me like a dead fox?" Helena mused looking back to the horizon.

"Lestrade doesn't know of your presence here, and I have no purpose of letting him know." He informed promptly. "I am here merely to prove a point."

"And what shiny  _ sharp _ point is that?"

"The ring." She side glanced to the blond short man as he gently approached. "How did you get it off the woman?"

Helena was silent, that's all? No doctors rushed up, so she concluded that the men hadn't informed she was up here. Her eyes moved to Sherlock who stared at her knowingly waiting for her answer. "You know, don't you?"

"Of course I do.”

"Then you explain it, I'm too tired." Helena rubbed her head, still dizzy from the drugs. Her climbing up here really took the remaining energy she had in her. She turned her body halfway to listen on how he knew.

Sherlock sighed, "John, you asked how she easily slip the ring off the woman's finger." John nodded. "If you were to check her fingers now, you'll find the same oils on there as before."

John looked to her, she didn't incline to move for him to inspect her fingers. Obviously wanting her space. "From the metal bars outside the hospital?"

"No, common mistake. The oils are from the windows." John's brows knotted as Sherlock expected. "The hinges and outlines outside the window have a lubricant like grease to make sure it doesn't get stuck when in need of opening. She used the grease to lubricate the fingers of the woman, easily sliding the ring off without the woman even feeling it. The oil would have dried from the cold morning air, once she noticed."

John blinked, never thinking that. Damn, this girl was so resourceful. "W-Wait, then how did she get out without anyone noticing?"

"That's simple-"

"I climbed out of the window on the other side where below was the building next to it. There was a underground tunnel to the side and the way the sun was shining, the shadows were in my favor. No one saw me climb down that side, jump down to the roof and slide down to the streets blending in with the crowd." Helena informed, quickly blinking her now stinging tired eyes.

The two men looked to her, Sherlock grinned. She read the expression, impressed? It was the same as the night she robbed him. "Should I ask how you knew it was those oils? You said you weren't involved nor spoke to the woman." John asked chewing his lip.

"Was it because when I robbed you, did my scent of the oils get on your coat?" She asked, raising a brow at him.

Sherlock's smile fell to an amused frown. "More like the pocket." Helena nodded which made her sway.

"Wait, you encountered her, Sherlock? When?" John was struggling at being so out of the loop.

"I robbed him of his rubbish junk the night of the incident. He came after me for his stuff, which I commend to you, good sir." She gave a scout salute to him, John moved closer to her. She was slowly losing consciousness. Being at the edge of the building didn't help John on the thought of her falling off.

"Look, how about we go back inside? You're still sick with-"

"No!" She suddenly barked glaring him. "I am not going back to where they can lock me up. Keep me for their little game of tests!"

"No, listen. I'm a doctor, if you want I can be the one to treat you." he explained, she eyed him. "They already think I'm your personal doctor so-"

"Cleithrophobia." Sherlock spoke up, causing the attention to fall to him.

"...Pardon?" John asked as Helena glared him.

Sherlock's eyes shot to her finding her glare on him. "You suffer from a fear of Cleithrophobia; the fear of being locked or enclosed into places."

The military doctor looked over, that explained her climbing onto the roof. The hospital room was small, she must have had an episode causing the second sedation. "Either way, as a doctor I can't allow her to be up here making her illness worse. The cold air will make her worse as well as-shit!"

Her energy was worn out when they took notice of her falling back towards the edge. Sherlock being closer caught her just in time and moved her body away from the edge towards John.

The doctor checked her pulse, "She needs to be in a bed and rest." he ordered. "But staying at a hospital might make it worse with that fear causing her anxiety. She can't be kept under drugs for that alone."

Sherlock listened and he knew where John was going with this, his blue deep eyes met Sherlock's electric ones. "No."

"Sherlock!"

"She is not staying at the flat, what help would that give?" Sherlock stepped away, shoving his hands in his coat pockets.

"The main room is bigger than that room she was put in. Not to mention she won't feel as if she's being locked away like she does here." John propped her up against his knee holding her. She was small and frail, when was the last she even properly ate a meal?  


"John, you can't take in every sick thing you see." He told as if telling a child not to take pets in.

"This is a human being, Sherlock!" He barked now angry, much to Sherlock's shock. Sure he'd seen much of John's angry display, but this one was different. "You also said so yourself, she was a criminal. What would happen if Scotland Yard found her, they'd lock her up. Resulting in her having attacks on this phobia which can result in death." Sherlock thought death was a bit far, but arguing with John in this angry state wouldn't be the wisest. Tempted, he opened his mouth to do so, but John beat him to it. 

"Don't even try to argue with me on this, Sherlock. I live in that flat too, so I decide as well. Might I ask, how would Mrs. Hudson feel knowing you let a young woman die from this whole thing when you knew you could have done something. Yes, I know sentiment isn't something of you to have, but you have to have something called guilt in that heart people claim you don't have. And if you even  _ try _ to leave her here to her fate, than that will prove everyone else right about you."

* * *

John: 1 Sherlock: 0

That was the score so far, and it was surely to continue while the stay was being made. Sherlock looked to be pouting, which he was, at his chair by the mantel staring at John tending to the thief. John hadn't gotten her name yet as she wasn't given a name at the hospital nor found a medical file on her. Currently he was trying to do so while setting her tea and meal. It was obvious the thief wanted to shovel the food down her throat, but was resisting much to John's surprise. Hell, the two were surprised she agreed to this at all. But seeing the open room must have assured her it was fine since she's woken up.

"If you need something smaller, I can try that." John offered, trying to figure out why she wouldn't eat. "I can't give you the medicine until you've eaten."

The Tramp now in her usual clean clothing had a blanket over her sitting up on the couch. "I've gone a long mile without food, just toss the medicine to me and I'll live."

"I can't," John strained. "You'll get sick if you do, just half of the sandwich at best. It's something."

She just crossed her arms and looked away towards the window. It was closed due to Sherlock's orders, but the curtains were drawn open for her to see outside.

"We can always just-"

"Sherlock." John stopped him from his suggestion, giving a look over his shoulder.

"Oh come off it, John!" Sherlock stood striding over to stand next to the crouching doctor. "She hasn't cooperated since she's been here. She refuses to give a name, eat, and rather suffer the effects of her medicine than be treated. And just by her looking out the window, she's routed four different ways of her escaping, including when she took a peek at my room down the hall."

"Routed?" John looked between her and Sherlock, she rolled her eyes. 

"I can map things out. I've already mapped out how the whole flat is built from the front door to Sherlock's bedroom." The Tramp looked over. "You're room is above, yes? Smaller than Sherlock's, not that you seem to dislike it. You're one to keep to yourself on that, so size of a room is no bother, but privacy is. So having a room to yourself on the second floor is perfect."

The two men stared at her; one shocked and the other impressed. "Oh God, you're like him." John groaned standing to move to the other side of the room, rubbing his forehead.

"Mapping out buildings that's new." Sherlock commented sitting into the chair by the door.

She was silent for a moment watching them. "..Is it that much of a shocker?" She questioned seeing two different reactions. "I mean, hell you seemed mind blown during our chase."

"S-Sorry, what?" John looked between the two who looked up at him. "Chase? When did you chase her? Is there more I don't know?"

The Tramp gave a long look to John then toward Sherlock."...He's very slow isn't he?"

Sherlock nodded with folded arms. "Hm, quite."

John exasperated at those statements tossing his arms up in defeat. "My  _ greatest  _ apologies…" He trailed off begging for a name to finish his sarcasm remark for the two.

"Hawkeye." Sherlock answered.

"Helena." She said right after.

Sherlock looked to her, now his expression changed with low brows. "Helena?"

She sighed. "Hawkeye is my street name, Helena is my birth name. Seeing as you two aren't going to tell Lestrade about my location, I think I can give you my first name. After all, you also decided to take me in from that  _ cage _ ." Helena spat, referring to the hospital.  


"Okay, before we go any further." John put his hands on his hips looking between the two. "Why was he chasing you?"

Sherlock opened his mouth to answer, Helena cleared her throat to answer. "Simple; I nicked him the night of the incident with the news and all. We just bumped into each other, while moving I shoveled out what was in his coat pocket." She shrugged. "Useless bits, notebook, weird tools, some... magnifier- which in all honesty I wanted to keep."

Sherlock scoffed. "Like I'd allow that."

"Continue, Helena." John sighed.

"I was on a roof looking over his stuff, when I got his cellphone." Helena glanced to the detective. "Which by the way, how did you text that message and know I was there?" She asked.

"Easy; I asked to have the text sent to my phone. I emailed Lestrade I had my phone missing and needed him to send a text. I asked to text those words exactly as well as a certain time." Sherlock explained letting his hands steeple together under his chin.

"But the timing and finding me?" Helena reached for a tea, John stayed silent in hopes she'd take the sandwich as well. Talking like this to someone with the near same mind calmed her enough to consume something.

"Timing was just luck, finding you was easy. When I retraced my steps to where I bumped into you, I deduced where you would be by hiding and eliminated the obvious of the usual spots to pickpocket. Most would hide behind alleys or inside the buildings, but no; You were  _ on top _ ."

A smirk broke out on Helena's face. "That's impressive, Sherlock. We are indeed a like."

"That's what I was afraid of." John moaned, running a hand over his face.

"Regret bringing her here?" Sherlock inquired to him.

"Of course not. If anything, it was good for her own benefit." John argued nodding to Helena.

Now she was chewing on half of the ham sandwich. She swallowed thickly and put it back down. "Can I have my medicine now?"

John nodded and got up to get it from the kitchen. Sherlock grew silent, hands still in place now at his lips. Helena watched him curiously, looking around the room. The men had some… unique items in their flat. Skull on the mantle wearing headphones, random books assorted around the shelves. Some other items looked to be things found in an antique shop, while others were really modernized. It peaked Helena's interest as to what Sherlock and John owned each item in the flat and what the worth was. But Ferry might find trouble to sell them, so he probably wouldn't accept them as much as tech and jewelry.

Sherlock watched her eye everything in the room, what must be going through her head? John soon returned with the antibiotics that Helena graciously swallowed with no trouble and sipping more of the tea. "How long do you plan on me staying? I should be going back."

"Back to what? You're homeless." Sherlock told bluntly, making John give his look of disapproval.

Helena glared the dark haired man. "Yes I am, is it bothering you a filthy ill hobo is occupying your couch?"

"Just a tad." He squeaked, scrunching his face in disgust. He stood and strode to the kitchen.

"Don't mind him," John said taking Sherlock's seat. "He's like this with everyone. And at least until you are better. How's your legs or hand?"

Helena sighed and laid down wrapping the blankets tightly around her. "Numb. Even if I wanted to, I can't leave until I can properly walk let alone run."

John nodded and leaned back. Only noise was the sound of test tubes clinking, so Sherlock was probably doing one of his experiments. John hopped this meant the fingers can be put back at Bart's. "So, um. How did you do it?"

A scoff escaped her as she glanced to him. "That can mean anything."

"I mean, how did you get on top of Shard Tower?" John asked folding his arms over his chest. He was indeed curious to how it was done.

"That's something I keep to myself." She answered and brought the blanket over her head, indicating she was done talking.

John took the hint, he stood with a grunt and walked to the kitchen finding Sherlock was indeed playing with the fingers. Though he guessed pouring some sort of acid over the fingernails didn't count as 'playing'. John poured himself a cup of tea, seeing Sherlock without one decided to pour him a cup. Once he placed it by him, Sherlock reached for it and sipped it as if expecting it.

"Think she'll try to leave?" John asked shoving a hand into his jeans pocket leaning on the stove.

"I think stealing is something to be more concerned about than leaving." Sherlock answered putting his cup down.

A frown appeared. "Stealing?"

Sherlock sighed and looked up to his flat mate. "John, you forget she's a criminal. She stole that woman's ring."

Watson nodded remembering. "Does she still have it?"

The dark detective looked back down into his microscope adjusting the lenses for a moment. "No, I asked about any objects she had at the hospital. No money, no ring, nothing. So, what did she do with the ring?" Sherlock glanced back up. John's turn.

The doctor sighed in thought, "Maybe for food or drink?"

"Impossible. She was listed to be malnourished, meaning Helena hasn't eaten properly in so long. Notice how she didn't take the food right away or even the tea, she just wanted the medicine and leave." Sherlock corrected, leaning back in his chair and steepled his hands to his lips. "No, she did something with the ring, sold or pawned it at most for money. But if she did, the money wouldn't be put towards herself… But another."

"...Sentiment?" John inquired.

"Something of that sort, yes." Sherlock stood going to the main room getting his coat and scarf. "It's best to keep an eye on her. We can't risk her stealing something and running off to do what knows with it."

John followed seeing Helena had fallen asleep, face no longer hidden under the blanket. "Where are you going?"

Sherlock looped the scarf around him and slid his gloves on. "To research." Was his answer and bounded down the steps, not caring to wake Helena or not.

This left John to watch her, not that he minded as she was now his patient. With reminding himself she was a criminal made him keep his attention on her at all times. At the back of his mind, this nagging thought told him this girl was no danger at all. Not to him at the most, nor Sherlock. She seemed to be the girl to handle herself, being homeless for who knows how long. A few weeks, months at most?

John walked to the window, looking out as night grew closer. His stomach growled demanding for dinner, question was what would said dinner even be? Thanks to Sherlock using the kitchen as a science lab, cooking or even storing food wasn't possible. He made a mental note to go shopping next week.

The doctor decided to just order Chinese carryout. He knew what Sherlock and he liked, but with Helena eating not as much, he just ordered white rice. It was good for her and wouldn't be too heavy as well.

* * *

Dark musky, filthy and more importantly, crowded. Though even with his torch helping him light his way through the dark under passages of the carriageway, no one was giving his help. Be it someone in his homeless network or just some random person, no one would give him answers when the name 'Hawkeye' was mentioned. This made him even more suspicious on this. They were defending her, keeping any information that knew of her safe for her. But why? Sure, some people look out for each other, but he assured she was safe at his place after taking ill. Why didn't that assure it for the passable information?

Some would just walk away while others said they didn't know much. He was getting aggravated by the minute, finding this all for not. Sherlock wasn't going to give up, he went in deeper finding a metal drum with flames spewing from it. People huddle in front of it for warmth, as he approached them gently one of them looked up.

"Mr. Holmes, what can we do for you?" One woman asked, rubbing her gloved hands together not caring if they didn't matched.

Sherlock kept his distance, hands deep in his coat pockets. Sure, he helped them with them helping back, but he was still one to keep cleanliness to his mind. "Without giving the urge to grow silent or walk away, can you tell me anything on someone of the name of Haw-Helena?"

Three had already walked away. One kept a watching resisting to leave, while the one Sherlock was talking to raised a brow at him. "You sure you don't mean Hawkeye?"

Sherlock shifted in his stance, "If I said that, you would have left without an answer, yes?"

She nodded with a knowing smile. "Helena, or as she likes to be called, Hawkeye, is someone very important to us. Someone who cares for us."

"Then why is it no one will speak of her? Not even ones in the network, I've assured she is safe and well." Sherlock told, giving a sigh and glancing around.

The one person decided to stay, coughing into their fist. "That's all dandy, but we still shouldn't speak anymore of it." He insisted giving the woman a look to silence herself any further.

"It's alright, Trevor. We can trust Sherlock, we've helped him before." She assured, giving him a look back.

The man, known as Trevor, scoffed and folded his arms. He shivered as a wind blew by, eyeing up the detective. "I only ask what her motives are." Sherlock stated, letting the cold breeze move the ends of his coat about his legs.

"Her motives? She's no criminal, Mr. Holmes. If anything she is a saint to me, to Trevor, to all of us." She told, straining her voice at how high the defense was for Helena.

"...A saint?" Sherlock questioned, not seeing the connection. Helena played 'catch me' with the police and robbed people. Including him! She found it to be a fun game when he had to chase her for his stuff back. It was not fun to him. "How is she a  _ saint _ ?" He asked.

Trevor sighed. "If it wasn't for her, most of us wouldn't be here now." He stated, glaring the detective. "I hear you're such a smart  _ deducing _ man. Deduce that." Trevor spat at Sherlock before taking the woman's hand and dragging her away to a group by another fire.

The detective found his job done, deciding to return to Baker Street. In the cab ride, he tried to piece together why she would be defended so highly and claimed as a saint. Would Helena agree to that? Sherlock knows he won't get any answers out of her.

Sherlock looked out the window going to his mind palace. Helena stole the ring for a purpose and after a week no longer had it. The odds of losing it was low as he noticed a small bag tied to her waist to keep said trinkets when she robbed people. When Helena got Sherlock’s stuff, she gave chase not to get away. but challenged him to get them back. Soon she returned them including the phone. He remember she saw something on his phone that made her toss the device, last on the screen was a text from Lestrade. Made sense, any connection to the police would make her want to get away and cut connections. She liked the challenge Sherlock gave, but found no use to his use was that; money. Trade it in for money. One could get a good amount from jewelry so she aimed for that. Where did the money go after that, not herself, no. Sherlock dismissed that already, but to another. Yes, it was food and water for the homeless, not herself. John was half right, food for them not her.

Once he felt the cab stop, he found 221b in front of him. Sherlock paid the cabbie and left entering the home. Stalking up the stairs and into the flat, he found John sleeping in the chair to watch Helena- Who was not on the couch. His eyes narrowed, door was locked and windows were shut. Sherlock moved down to his room passing the bathroom hearing water running, that stopped him in his tracks. Shower? Within a few seconds the water turned off, Sherlock stayed waiting to see if it was Helena in there. Then again who else would it be?

His answer was given to be Helena, as she emerged in his blue robe tight wrapped around her small thin body. She looked up with her auburn hair sticking to her neck and shoulders. Helena wasn't embarrassed in only Sherlock's robe, but she looked better than before.

"Evening." She gave softly, moving some wet strands behind her ear. Sherlock just stared at her, lips thin and eyes trained on her. Helena moved away from the door, "Need the loo?" she asked pointing her thumb at the room.

Still no answer, did she break him? Helena got on her toes waving a hand in his face exaggerating her height to his. Him being 6 foot and her being 5'7 he estimated. Two inches taller than John, poor sod. "Er, okay, I'm going to dry off and change back into my clothing." She told slowly as if Sherlock's brain had indeed broken. "Is there anything you would like to question or…  _ Say _ before I disappear again?"

Sherlock blinked and opened his mouth finally stating. "That's my robe."

Helena looked down at herself, "Oh, I assumed so. It's a bit long and tight for John to wear." she looked back up. "He said if I could move, I can take a shower. And you didn't want a," She cleared her throat and made the quotation marks with her fingers stating, " 'Filthy ill hobo' laying on your furniture after all." Helena folded her arms smirking.

"That's my robe. Did John say you could use my robe?" Sherlock frowned like a child had his toy taken from him.

Helena chewed her cheek, humming as if trying to remember. Finally she beamed a short smile answering, "Nope." and returned to the bathroom with a slam of the door.

"John!" Barked Sherlock stomping into the living room, waking the doctor in a shock from the bellowing yell. "I want her out now!"

"W-What!? What happened?" John stumbled to his feet, seeing the couch empty. "Where's Helena?"

"In the loo, just finished her lovely, relaxing shower getting dressed as we speak. Seeing as she can walk all the way from here to there,” He indicated pointing his finger from the couch then toward the hall. “Stand for a good amount of time for a twenty minute shower. I say it's time to send her away with a lunch pack for her medicine and-"

A sudden thud echoed from the bathroom, gaining the thier attention. John rushed past Sherlock in a small panic. "Helena? Are you alright?" He asked, knocking on the door.

Sherlock watched approaching the entrance to the kitchen. "Y-Yeah, just lost my footing." Her voice sounded strained.

"Can you get up? Where did you fall?" John asked, hand at the door knob, ready to enter if need be.

"Dr. W-Watson... I need some assistance if you p-please!" She cried, giving John the ignition to run in and shut the door behind him.

Sherlock removed his coat and scarf, hung it by the door. "Damn." He cussed, hands on his hips pacing in anger. Of course, timing was not on his side with this woman. She was fine enough to leave and be out of his flat and sight, but no. Just had to go and fall!

Her fall was indeed bad, she was feeling fine but felt her legs go numb when she was combing her hair out. Thankfully dressed, John carried her to the couch and she laid there for the rest of the night. John went to bed as Sherlock stayed in the living room into the late night on his laptop. Bored. He needed a case.

Having the homeless woman watch her didn't help, she didn't talk much to his pleasure. She was instead playing with anything within her reach. Pencil, plate, chopsticks, violin. Sherlock's eyes snapped up when he heard the plucking of his strings. "No, no!" He scolded, dashing to get his precious violin from her thin grabby hands.

Helena gave a look. "I promise, I wasn't stealing it. I mean, I didn't make it very far did I?" She spat, folding her arms.

Sherlock sighed gripping the neck of his violin and took his bow. "If you wish to entertain yourself, I insist you don't." He instructed, going to his chair placing the instrument gently.

"Well, I wasn't expecting to be wide awake thanks to that nap I took during your leave. Which by the way, better not have been to Scotland Yard." She warned, narrowing her eyes at him.

"You should put more trust in me of not 'tattling' you to Lestrade." The detective twirled the bow in his hand, watching her pout.

"Oh! Just like how you trust me to not steal any of your knick knacks?" Helena retorted. "Where would I hide them? In your bushy bouncy hair? How about up the flue? No one  _ ever _ thinks to hide anything there!"

Sherlock could argue on that, as that's where he hid his cigarettes. He took a mental note to hide them elsewhere. Helena sighed and rubbed her temples. "Look, how about we make a deal until I am free from here? Because as gracious as I am, I rather be out there." She stated, pointing at the window.

"Go on." Sherlock insisted, taking his violin and sitting down in his chair.

"We can make a deal that you trust me to not steal anything while I am healing, and I trust you to not tell Lestrade of my location." She held a hand out which Sherlock eyed across the room. "Oh come on, I showered. With soap." Helena added, chuckling.

Sherlock stood and took long strides over to her. Switching his violin to his other hand with the bow, he gently took her hand shaking it. "Deal."

Helena sighed and laid down. "Good, now all is well." 

Helena played with the chopsticks, silence taking over once more. Though it didn't last, the long string sound of an instrument softly cut through the silence. Her dark eyes looked up to see Sherlock playing the violin, eyes closed as he stood tall and proud. His fingers nimbly held the strings as for the right tunes and bow tilting up and down moving left and right, creating the beautiful music. Helena never heard such a peaceful sound living on the streets. It was relaxing and honestly beautiful. She never expected a high strong inpatient man like Sherlock Holmes to play such a soft slow moving tune on that wooden craft instrument.

The homeless girl found her eyelids growing heavier as each tune played out. Sherlock took a peek at her, seeing her eyes close and a small smile dance on her lips, falling to sleep. The detective had a hunch John was no doubt covering his head with his pillow at this moment upstairs. Sherlock continued playing for a bit longer, making sure Helena was asleep completely before stopping his little private performance and going to bed for his own slumber. It was true that music did sooth a beast.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, Helena wasn't any better. John woke up early finding her with a fever, he placed a cold wet cloth on her forehead and wrapped one around her wrist. Helena constantly removed it and soon it stayed that way, laying on the coffee table. She was cold and shivering, wrapped up in two blankets, John offered his. The doctor had to go out sadly that day and go shopping, he was pacing for two hours that morning mulling over on leaving her here with Sherlock. He knew the childish man hated Helena being here with whining about her in his robe after her shower.

"Dr. Watson?" John turned seeing Helena waking from her fever sleep turning over to him, the cloth falling to the floor. "Who keeps walking..?" She asked, rubbing her eyes.

"Sorry..." He moved over picking it up, it was dry. Placing a hand on her forehead, she still had the fever. "I'll have to get you something to lower your temperature." He told her, going to the kitchen to get the cloth wet and cold once more.

Helena curled up again, wincing as her leg muscles hurt. She knew she pushed herself with the shower and walking around. Standing in there for about an hour at most, she forgot what a shower or feeling clean even felt like.

The sound of a door opening signaled Sherlock was awake… or always was. Hard to tell, God knows how much that man sleeps. Sort of like a giraffe; tall like one and slept no more than five minutes. The dark haired detective dressed in his white dress shirt, black trousers, and buttoned on his suit jacket. Sherlock found the doctor in the kitchen at the sink with the cloth. He groaned in annoyance, making John speak first, turning the faucet off.

"Yes, she's still here." He told, ringing the cloth out cold water droplets escape down the drain.

"You're going out." Sherlock sighed, peeking into the living room. Indeed finding the homeless woman sleeping on the couch, balled up in the blankets. Ah, that's what the groan was for.

"Well, someone has to do the shopping." John tried to reason, turning to him. "While I do that, someone has to stay here and watch Helena."

Sherlock, for once, was pondering on picking to go shopping… Though last time he did, he brought back bread and milk. Can't do much with that. Sherlock looked to her again, by her condition she should stay asleep during the leave. John walked past his detective friend and knelt down, putting the cloth gently on her head not to wake her up. Sherlock then got a thought in his head.

"..I have a case." He spoke up, John turned almost testing the detective's features to see if he's lying. "The Jaria Diamond, offered last night. Remember?"

John shook his head. "It won't take me long." He assured, fixing the collar of his coat. "Besides, you said it wouldn't be worth leaving the flat."

Damn he did. He actually didn't find the case all that interesting after getting an email that morning on how he was being demanded to take it. But he won't tell John that. "..Fine." He told stiffly and took his seat at his chair with a huff.

"I won't be long. We need a few things, then I come back, got it?" John asked softly going to his chair, tossing his coat on.

Sherlock looked between the two, as if given the school pet to watch over for the weekend. John knew how he felt 'taking care' of people let alone himself. Hell, having Mrs. Hudson come up to chat annoyed Sherlock enough. But John saw these two could get along; thought alike and were indeed a unique pair.

John soon left to his shopping, Helena still slept, and Sherlock sat watching her intently. He didn't dare move a muscle, not in fear to waking her. The possible thought of drugging her back to sleep came to mind… But then Dr. Watson would know and- Now thinking the effort wouldn't be worth it.

The woman did moved now and then, wincing as she moved her legs. Sherlock watched her intently, taking in her sleeping face, as the hood of her jacket hid her all her hair but her bangs hanging off the side of her face. She soon moved her head causing that damn cloth to slap to the floor. Sherlock hesitated but got up from his seat, picked up the cloth dainty and placed it back, feeling the burning heat from her forehead. That shower, a hot one, didn't help her with standing so long and the temperature of the water. Probably a very long time since she had warmth come anywhere close to her body, longing for it.

The sudden sound of a doorbell made Sherlock tense and looked toward the doorway. A client of all days, well maybe an excuse to leave. Mrs. Hudson could take care of Helena-Does she even know she's here?

Soon banging came upon the door, Sherlock sighed and rushed down the steps seeing Mrs. Hudson's door locked. Ah, she was out today. Sherlock walked over answering the door to his new client.

* * *

Today must have been shopping day for everyone. John walked through shuffling past trolleys and trying to find food for them to eat that as needed. People crowded, barely hearing his own thoughts to what to get. John pondered if there were sales going on.

The doctor managed to get some off the shelf medicine to help Helena's fever. As well as some foods for her. Some veggies as well, fruits didn't seem appealing but he managed to get some apples at most. "That should be enough.. Sherlock better not empty the fridge again." He said to himself going to check out.

* * *

"Helena? Helena.." The low voice indicated someone was waking her from her fevered slumber. Good, she was dreaming of some scary stuff from her fever. Her brown eyes squinted open to see Sherlock roughly moving her from the couch. "Get up."

"W-What? What is it..?" She mumbled yanking her arm back that he was pulling her up by. She found him trying to get her off the couch, her mind coming awake but her legs still felt a it painful from the spasms last night.

"Just get up, and go to the other room." He told getting her to her feet as the blankets fell off her.

Helena stumbled getting away from his grip and leaning on the chair by the doorway. "What? How come? I was fine here. And why are you whispering? I'm already awake." The homeless woman grumbled glaring him.

Sherlock gritted his teeth in annoyance, he glanced to the kitchen then to her. "Just go down stairs or up to John's room. Anywhere but here right now." He told urgently and walked into the kitchen.

Helena looked behind her seeing the stairs down to the entry way or up to John's room. She didn't think her legs can get her up or down the flight as it hurt just standing. Not to mention, why was he rushing her out of the room? That and who was in the kitchen angrily talking to Sherlock in some Middle Eastern like accent, or maybe Egyptian. Helena didn't know, she was moving back to the couch when she heard a sudden yell.

* * *

As crowded as it was, the lines in the two self-service checkouts were short much to John's relief. He wanted to return to the flat as quickly as possible, with possible thoughts on leaving the two super minds alone. A short queue started behind him, but he assured himself he'd be quick and out. Just as his turn arrive, he started scanning the items, until-

 _"Unexpected item in bagging area. Please try again."_ Came the automated voice.

Thinking nothing of it, John gave a glance around at the volume of the voice and decided to give it another try.

* * *

Meanwhile, things were as what John could never imagine. Helena watched as Sherlock dodged backwards from the kitchen into the living room from his heavy hooded and robed attacking. Shrouded in what Helena guessed was different kinds of material of scarves mostly. Swinging his sword, trying to give a slash at the lanky detective the two moved closer to her much to her despair. Sherlock knocked her back onto the couch and couch himself against her chest by his back trying to fight off the attacker and keep her from harm. -mostly for John's sake-

"Get off me!" She cried, pushing Sherlock off. He kicked the man in the chest knocking him off the two, stumbling backwards.

Sherlock stood adjusting his suit jacket and huffed in annoyance at the fact he had to watch himself _and_ Helena of this man. Though Helena herself stood with better ease watching, her heart pumped seeing this before her as Sherlock did more weaving to dodge the swords than actually fight back.

* * *

John was now leaning down, barcode against the clear screen with the red detector shining up at the item. How can it not scan it? It wasn't crumpled or damaged, so why?

 _"Item not scanned. Please try again."_ Was the voice growing louder?

John straightened and gave it an exasperated look. "D'you think you could keep your voice down?"

* * *

Sherlock found himself near strapped to the kitchen table -thankfully he moved his set to the counter night before- the sword of his attacker near at his neck in attempt to slice his head off. He kept a tight grip on the man's wrists to keep said weapon from doing so. Thought with a grimacing effort it was becoming hard with his current position. Trying to get him off, Sherlock throws his left knee into the man's right side, still not moving but the painful yelp did something. So he gave the man two more kicks, still kept his grip on him; weakened only a little.

From behind Helena got enough to go into the kitchen seeing Sherlock's distress of becoming a new specimen at Bart's. Helena couldn't use her legs, so she dug her elbow into the man's spine causing him to loosen his grip on Sherlock not expecting the attack or pain. The dark detective seeing his opening pushed the man's right wrist upwards making the point of the blade scrape across the surface of the table but freed Sherlock from possible death. Or just a cut to his cheek. The man thudded onto the floor as Sherlock forced himself back up next to Helena. No time to even thank or question her methods as the man stood again not completely done yet.

* * *

John _**still**_ struggled with the check out, but managed to get all the items scanned. Which took about.. eight times. The short line behind him now grew large seeing so many impatient people made him feel he had to rush out of there. So, the doctor swiped his card at the chip-and-PIN machine and put his PIN code in. He stood back ready to get the near fifty questions of his payment before this stops him.

 _"Card not authorized."_ Yes, the voice was louder. _"Please use an alternative method of payment."_

"Yes, All right!" John, with shorter patience, barked at it. "I've got it!" The man behind him gave a look as to why he was putting an effort into yelling at the machine.

The voice repeated, _"Card not authorized. Please use an alternative method of payment."_

John reached back for his wallet as the man picked his basket, ready to use the scanner next. He finally saw how long the line had gotten and cleared his throat in looking for cash. Checking all his pockets, nothing.

"Got nothing." He muttered and started backing away from the machine, pointing at it. "Right, keep it. Keep that."

The man behind him looked a bit bewildered that he left his items back and just… walked off in a huff of anger. Looking down he see he might have possibly left his card in the said machine.

John almost wished he had sent Sherlock out shopping.

* * *

The fight returned to the living room as Sherlock backed Helena away from the man in a distance of safety from the swinging sword. He continued to dodge and weave from the attacker, when Sherlock suddenly straightens and points in a direction behind the man. Helena catches on.

"Look!" He cried.

The man half turns in the looking at the mirror for a split moment before turning back. Sherlock and Helena both swing a upper cut to the man's cut, he falls back unconscious into the gray leather chair dropping the sword to the floor. Panting softly from Sherlock as he straightens his jacket glancing into the mirror, also fixing his cuffs shirt, and dusting something off his jacket. Helena pushed her hood off her head leaning on her knees looking up at him panting a bit herself. She hasn't gotten much fun like that since she's gotten sick… Pretty much since she had that chase with Sherlock in the streets.

"That was… what you wanted me out for?" She asked, nodding her head to the man.

Sherlock gave a sniff and looked down at her. "Yes, but I see it was good to keep you here." He gave her a wink and glanced at the man with disdain.

She shook her head with a chuckle. "What should we tell John?" Helena asked standing straight adjusting her jacket that was off her shoulder now.

"Nothing. He won't need to know an attacker came by with you, an ill frail woman, got mixed up into it." Sherlock looked at her up and down. Yes, she did give a look when the word 'frail' was used. "Though he will question the sudden change in health." His hand rose up to her forehead moving the hair a tad from her face. "..And fever has gone down."

She felt her own forehead once his hand was removed, his hands were soft. "Huh."

"Fix yourself up, I'll take care of him." He assured walking into the kitchen.

Helena glanced at the man then to the couch, gently walking over. Knees felt a bit shaky, but other than that, her muscles felt as if nothing happened from her illness. Helena picked up the blankets and placed them back over the couch as she threw herself on there, watching Sherlock do his work of 'hiding the evidence'.

If John returned any sooner, he might have caught Sherlock dragging the body to who knows where. As the doctor came up the flat entering the room, he found the place still in one piece. Though what he didn't expect to find was Sherlock and Helena quietly among themselves, or Helena even awake and looking a bit better. The tall detective sat at his chair innocently reading a book, Helena took note he actually was reading it as there was a paper by his side where from where he last left off. She now perched herself onto the end of the couch trying to get a good glimpse of outside. The windows didn't open much to her disdain wishing for a good breeze of outside hair.

John paused at the door and looked between the two, then around the room. "You took your time." Sherlock commented, not looking up from his book.

Helena looked over and tilted her head, he did say he was getting stuff didn't he? "...I thought you went shopping." She asked softly.

"Yeah, I didn't get the shopping." He answered glancing to her.

Sherlock looked up, indeed finding the man with no bags of food. "What? Why not?" He asked a bit surprised that he came back empty handed. Impossible the store had nothing that John mentally listed to get.

John turned to Sherlock and answered still a bit of anger in his tone. "Because I had a row, with a chip-and-PIN machine."

Helena only raised a brow with an amused grin. Oh the looks he must have got. Sherlock tried to picture it, as to why he was arguing with a unresponsive machine. "You.." He lowered his book more, tilting his head, still a bit befuddled at John's answer. "You had a row with a machine?"

"Sort of." He answered. "It sat there and I shouted abuse at it. Have you got cash?"

"Did it eat your card?" Helena asked, "Or your cash?" She added.

The two glanced to her, "I got no cash on me and... I left my card back in the machine." He swallowed.

Sherlock gave a bemused smile. "Take my card." He told, nodding to the kitchen where his wallet sat on the table. Must have fallen out during the struggle.

John gave a glance to Helena before moving to the kitchen, but he paused and gave Sherlock an indignant look. "You could go yourself while I stay here with Helena. You've been sitting there all morning. You've not moved since I left, Helena's sick and she's moved more than you have." Sherlock sighed as he nonchalantly turned the page of his book.

Helena gave a smile and shook her head, oh, if only he knew. "You wanted me to stay, so I stayed to watch her." Sherlock defended.

"And he's been so good!" She praised having Sherlock nod in agreement. "Telling me tales of his cases, like this one guy who jumped and attacked him without a thing to do."

Sherlock gave her a death glare from the corner of his eye. Oh, should've expected this.

"Only to have him be rescued, giving him the title damsel of distress." She gave a wink to him only to turn back to John who was rummaging for the card in his wallet.

"That's good. So, that case you were offered- the Jaria Diamond?" John asked, hoping he didn't really leave and she had a fever dream.

Sherlock took the paper he used as a bookmark into the newly turned page. "Not interested." He answered with a 'bored' tone and shut the book, looking to Helena. Her eyes shot down, Sherlock shortly kicked the sword further under the chair from John spotting it using, as an excuse to cross his legs. "I sent them the message."

John finally found the card, then noticed the mark on the table. Sherlock watched him as John rubbed his finger feeling the damage with a sighing whisper. "Ugh, Holmes." He leaned on his knuckles looking to Sherlock who looked back like an innocent puppy. John just trots down the stairs as Sherlock smirks to himself tapping the book waiting for the door to shut. Once he heard the slam, he put the book to the side, reaching down for the sword.

"Where is that bad boy gonna go?" Helena asked, sitting on the arm of the couch to see outside better.

"I'll have a place to put it somewhere. Unless you want it?" He offered, pointing it in her direction.

She gave it a look and shook her head. Helena wasn't a sword person and Ferry couldn't make much money off of that. She had a better chance with the skull or violin. "So," Helena hugged her knees. careful of the printer behind her now noticing it. "is the everyday life of Sherlock this?"

"Not everyday." He mused, getting up to hide the sword somewhere in his room. John never really went in there, unless Sherlock asked him to get something there.

"Not a boring life then, right?" She called, playing with the ends of her string entangled sleeves.

Sherlock returned and sat at the dining table, opening the red laptop that sat there all morning. "It can get boring." He said with disdain. Obviously not a fan of boredom, who would be?

Helena nodded and sighed sliding back onto the couch. While Sherlock typed away clicking a few times, the girl got bored herself. She stood and gently walked over to see the books he hand leaning a hand on the side of the shelf behind the detective. 'The Diary of Jack The Ripper', typical of him. 'Signature Killers',' Holy Bible'.

"Woah, never seen a bible before." She chuckled tapping it gently.

Sherlock watched her in the reflection of the screen seeing her look over the books. Not in suspicion of her stealing, but to see what she was picking to read. Helena first pulled out 'Mother Courage and Her Children', but seeing the cover made he slide it right back in. She browsed more and tapped on 'Sleepers: A True Story When Friendship Runs Deeper Than Blood', notting to read that later. Finally she pulled out of her interest, 'Bringing Down the House: How Six Students Took Vegas for Millions'. Helena nodded plopped into his chair opening the book to begin reading. She didn't think twice on Sherlock having this American book, but she's seen the movie and the methods of how they got the money would be of Sherlock's interest.

Helena soon moved to sitting at the window by Sherlock as he gazed at the email he had received that morning. Though he dreaded at opening at first, but then when the call of being a consulting detective and 'begging for help can into play. Sherlock folded his hands at his lips in deep thought to help this old school mate.

Helena and Sherlock reveled in the silence between them. Only the sounds of London life echoing in the background for them.

* * *

Slamming the door behind him with the shove of his foot, John staggered the stairs with a strong effort carrying several plastic bags.

"Don't worry about me I can manage." He told sarcastically at Sherlock who cast a short glance his way.

Helena looked up engrossed in her book noticing John's return. She knew the sarcasm was indeed to the consulting detective and not her. Soft thunks of the bags plumped onto the table as John started putting the assorted foods away.

"How are you feeling, Helena?" The doctor asked from the kitchen.

"A tad better, yes. Maybe I can finally be on my way." She told cheerfully, knocking her knees together.

"I'll be the judge of that." He chuckled.

"Her fever has broken, though still has trouble getting to her feet and standing for a long period of time." Came Sherlock's input.

Helena gave a scowl towards the man, who hid the urge to sneer. John shook his head, then looked to his flat mate seeing him stare down the screen of the laptop.

Hesitant, he asked, "Is that my computer?"

"Of course." Sherlock answered and started typing a reply to the email.

"What!?" He exasperated, shocked by Sherlock's quick answer.

"Mine was in the bedroom."

Helena snorted at that, looking between the two.

"What, you couldn't be bothered to get up?" He asked stepping into the room removing his coat.

"Something like that."

Helena grinned turning the page, she reached up on the desk to Sherlock's left getting a piece of paper to use as a bookmark.

John looked to her than to Sherlock. "It's password protected!"

Sherlock tilted his head to acknowledging that statement. "In a manner of speaking. Took me less than a minute to guess yours." He glanced to John. "Not exactly fort Knox." He told showing his disappointment to John's chosen password.

"Right," John slammed the laptop shut, Sherlock moved his fingers to above them being shut on. "thank you." John took his violated laptop away from him and placed it on the floor by his chair and sat down in it.

Sherlock blinked not able to send the reply, rude. Helena watched the two with a grin as the detective propped his elbows on the table and pressed his hands together against his lips with a thoughtful sigh. John looked over the mail he found to his left, Helena closed her book and finally spoke.

"Are you two married?"

John shut up with that, "No- Why does everyone think that?"

Helena stood leaning on the wall wincing a bit. "Well, seeing how Sherlock took your laptop and you did the shopping using his card. Then you two have little back and forths with each other." She walked slowly to Sherlock's chair sitting across from John who watched her. "Either brother's or married. You two look nothing alike but then again, genes tend to jump around."

His jaw hung off a bit, not expecting that whole thought on why she assumed they'd be a couple. "..To answer that, Helena, we are not married nor brothers. Just. Flatmates." He sighed looking at the bills. "...In need of money."

The homeless criminal chuckled, "Well, if money is what you need-"

"Not that kind of money." John stated furrowing his brows at what she was about to imply. That night she fell, Sherlock explained how she was getting the money and where that ring had gone to.

"Come on! Just one item, and you can call it payback for taking care of me." Helena said a bit more serious.

John looked to her more softly. "You don't have to pay us back." Sherlock mouthed 'us?' with a short confused expression. Why he was involved? "As a doctor, I felt it was my job."

Helena sighed and leaned back getting comfortable or tried. How can Sherlock sit in this damn chair? John looked over seeing a red bill, needs to be payed urgently. Great, he shakes his head chucking it back onto the small side table.

"I need to get a job." John stated to himself.

"Oh, dull." Sherlock commented, now folding his fingers.

Helena pondered on how they were to even get a flat if John didn't have a job. Wasn't he a doctor? She thought they got paid extremely well, Jewish most of all. But obviously John wasn't Jewish. But Sherlock seemed fine in money, hell how much does his attire cost alone?

John chewed his lip in thought and looked to the bill and back at Sherlock inwardly debating something. He leaned forward clearing his throat, "Listen, um.." He told feeling awkward on mentioning this in front of Helena. But she was homeless, so maybe she could understand. No, bad John, that's rude.

"If you'd be able to lend me some..." He trailed off seeing Sherlock wasn't even paying any attention to him. Helena kept hearing blaring sirens, extremely curious to what was happening outside."..Sherlock, are you listening?"

"I need to go to the bank." Not even listening to John, Sherlock stood from his chair and walked past to get his coat and scarf from behind the door.

With knotted brows, he glanced over too late to even ask Sherlock what he meant. Or even discuss on Helena being left alone here. The doctor glanced between her and the stairs to where Sherlock descended.

"Can I trust you without leaving?" He asked, standing up to get his coat on.

"I can barely walk, I doubt I'm going anywhere." She assured, "And I made a deal to Sherlock I won't steal anything." With a grin Helena held two fingers up like a scout. "Homeless' Honor."

John chuckled at her, "Don't strain yourself." He called, going through the kitchen and down the stairs to catch up with his detective friend.

Helena sighed as she looked around hearing the door slam. She looked over to her wrapped hand and started unwrapping it, looking at her healing wound. Almost wishing she had her medical shots updated to not be confined like this. Curious, she got up with a bit of effort and started wandering around the flat.

John and Sherlock were quite the pair of flatmates. She padded into the kitchen, green shades of tile on the wall matched the one shaded green walls. The light hanging above the kitchen table was very odd she in the kitchen. It reminded her of the lights that hung above cars in garages of a mechanic's shop. While the living room look a bit old like, there was some very high-tech appliances in the kitchen. The toaster it had four slots which looked shiny and clean much to her surprise. Beakers that look to have been recently washed sat in the sink waiting to dry. Though John had just gotten some fresh food the, kitchen had an odd scent coming from the fridge. Finding herself a bit curious, Helena opened the fridge only to slam it shut quickly. She was sure she saw a bag of a tongue. A human tongue.

Helena released a shutter, hoping to erase the image of that from her memory. Sherlock was indeed a unique man. Unique didn't even have place to the word to him, she took a mental note to look up a word for him. There was a dictionary on the shelf.

Down the hall, Helena saw two doors. She knew one was the bathroom, the other was Sherlock's room. Door shut to keep her out, the thought of it being locked got her eager to find out. Her hand gripped the door knob and twisted it, oh its unlocked. The door cracked open, brown eyes peeked in seeing no traps or alarms that she expected to go off. Opening the door wider the room became a clear view.

It was... Nothing Helena expected. The living room was left half a mess, but the room was spotlessly clean. Bed perfectly made, nick-knack neatly placed on shelves, she took a double take at the sound player across the room.

"Well, hello..." She greeted, grinning ear to ear maneuvering around his large bed and to the system. "Never expected him with this beauty." Helena didn't dare touch it, as he seemed to like his room kept perfect. OCD she guessed.

Her eyes scanned around more, she just found the room so fascinating. Probably from not being in one for so long let alone a flat at all. Feeling her knees quake a bit, Helena moved to sit on his bed. "Hm, comfy." She moved up and propped herself up in the middle and sighed at the comfort. Damn, how could she leave now? Helena found herself sinking into the bed more and more until her head was now on the pillow.

"Sherlock wouldn't mind if I took a short nap.." She yawned and turned her head closing her eyes, getting comfortable with folding her arms tightly. Feeling relaxed and at ease, she took a voluntary nap in Sherlock Holmes' bed.

* * *

With a new case, Sherlock was fully focused how this little bizarre crime occurred. His phone echoed out the snap shot sound effect as he took photos of the graffiti damaged painting. He turned seeing the symbols spin softly around his mind as he looked out the window see the Swiss Re Tower across from the bank building. Sherlock looked away in thought, and wandered over to the glass pulling the blinds up and dainty opened the glass gently stepping to the edge. Wind blew around roughly as the cloudy sky shined no sun upon the city. Eyes soared seeing the distance of London, the thought of Helena seeing this everyday came to mind. Sherlock looked down to see the ground hundreds of feet below, he barely saw the people from the distance. Head shot up trying to figure it out, maybe through the window to get to the room. But how to get up here? Seeing the clip of Hawkeye scaling down the building came to him, he shook it off and re entered closing the glass shut. She had bars and structures to grip onto, there's nothing to grip onto to get up here.

Back on the trading floor, Sherlock slowly raises up seeing something intently looking back and forth. Nope, he move backwards as people watched this strange man dance around the room. Sherlock side stepped backwards and hide behind a few computers, then rose up again looking left and right. He repeated this method until he found himself shimming behind a desk in an office, there. Sherlock could see the upper defaced painting now. Leaving the room with a glance around, he saw the owner tag on the door- Edward Van Coon. He slid the tag out and sped off to meet John at the reception desk.

Time to find Van Coon, but first a pit stop.

* * *

Shuffling and mumbles awoke the hobo as she groaned stretching her arms and legs out. They were feeling a bit better, guess she didn't have it as bad. Though if it wasn't for Dr. Watson she'd be strapped to the bed in the hospital drugged out of her mind.

"Sherlock? John?" Came a soft calling voice, sounded old. Helena got up from the bed ignoring the crease she gave to the blankets and sunk in look to the pillows.

Looking down the hall she nearly bumped into a surprised old woman. "Oh.. Hello." She greeted with a confused smile. "Friend of Sherlock's?" She guessed as Helena was in his room.

"Ah, no!" She said quickly, shaking her head. "I'm just Dr. Watson's patient. Sorry, I fell asleep in here after they left on a case."

The smile went wider, and her eyes brightened. "Oh, that's alright dear. I'm surprised Sherlock allowed it."

She went back into the kitchen with Helena following. "I'm Helena by the way." She told, a soft smile to the elderly woman.

"Oh, Mrs. Hudson, the landlady." She gave a cute stern look. "Not a housekeeper."

Helena giggled, "I understand. Were you looking for the two?" she asked.

Mrs. Hudson walked to the living room where Helena found a tray with tea and some biscuits. Looked like she made them herself and the tea was smelling good. "Sherlock moves the food around a lot, so I make sure they have some tea and a snack." Helena smiled taking Sherlock's seat once more.

"Well, I'll join you for tea." She offered..

The friendly woman smiled at that, guess it's been a while since she's had tea with anyone here. With the two on cases and barreling out of the flat. "Oh, that'd be lovely!" She poured the tea and handed Helena hers and offered some biscuits which she took graciously.

"You sure look healthy for a patient of John's." She said to strike a conversation taking John's seat with her own cup of tea.

"That so? Guess I am getting better, a night or so ago John took me from the hospital. I'm not very fond of them." She paused to sip her tea, wow it was really good! Helena forgot how good it was. "Actually, he found me when I got sick and got me there. But seeing my distaste for it offered to take care of me here." She explained with a shrug excluding the details and chuckled. "Sherlock hated me here."

"They are good boys they are," She assured including the odd detective. Helena bit into the biscuit. Oh god, this woman was a saint! "It takes a while for Sherlock to get to know people, though he went with John straight away." She smiled sipping more.

Not fully understating her statement, Helena just nodded. "They are a pair. Just looking around," Her eyes scanned around the room. "and they do bicker like a married couple." She laughed taking another bite.

"Oh, once you're, better you must simply visit. I barely get to see the boys with their work, and it's been a while since I spend time with a cute younger woman." She praised patting Helena's knee.

A blush crept onto her cheeks, her cute? She was a homely crook, what was cute about that. "..Thanks." Hiding herself behind her cup sipping more of her tea. "But sure, I'll come and visit. If you promise to make these same biscuits. Did you make them?" Helena took a bite into her third one.

"Oh yes! I always make my own food, never prepackaged." This woman was so cute, Helena could count her as her own saint when hiding or a bit of coverage depending the weather or her on the run from the cops.

A door slammed downstairs and sound of footsteps pounding up the steps gave the two women their attention to the doorway. Sherlock appeared, but no John. His eyes shot straight to Helena, "Change and come with us." Ah, John must be waiting outside.

Helena blinked, what? "..Get changed into what?"

Her answer was hesitated as Sherlock bolted up stairs but returned just as quick chucking a jacket and shirt at her. The jacket looked to be one of John's, and the shirt... Also one of John's though it was a blue plaid button up.

"Change and meet up downstairs. Quickly." He stated turning to leave.

"Sherlock, she's ill!" Mrs. Hudson scolded, getting up to her feet putting her tea down.

"Does John even know?" She asked as Mrs. Hudson tidied the cups and took the tray moving around Sherlock to go down stairs.

Sherlock sighed at her slowness to not going to change her shirt. "He will, I want you with me for something."

With a roll of her eyes, she removed her jacket roughly chucking it at his chair. She revealed to Sherlock who got a good short glimpse, that she only wore her sports bra under her jacket; no shirt. He looked away politely facing the stairs downwards. "What for? Money? I thought you guys were going to the bank?" Helena buttoned the shirt on, a tad big but fit pretty good. Then she shrugged the jacket on and took one last biscuit, "...You can turn now, Rosey Cheeks." She teased going to stand in front of him at the door way.

Sherlock gave her a glare, he was _not_ blushing. "We have a case, something I think even you'll find interesting." He started down the stairs.

"W-Wait!" She called, he looked up seeing her not budging. "...Are the police involved?"

Seeing her hesitance, and how she held her arm nervously showed how much her trust to him was on the line. He took a step up putting a hand on the railing. "No, but they might." Sherlock raised a hand to pause her protests. "I told you to change attire, because if they see you dressed just like that, they'll instantly connect that you are Hawkeye. They aren't the smartest, so you'll be fine in this attire."

She watched his eyes, seeing he really did want her to follow him with this case. Almost, desperation in those bright striking eyes. Helena sighed and gave her arm a rub, going down two steps to match Sherlock's gaze.

"I trust you."

* * *

John protested the whole cab ride to the address Sherlock informed to the cabbie. He kept going on how Helena should be resting and was still a bit warm. But she walked fine down to the cab, and was inwardly happy to be out of the flat and outside. She watched the sights near excitedly, never seeing it from this point of view.

Helena saw a street as the cabbie turned and leaned over to the cabbie, "You might want to take the next left." She informed him, "Then after two streets a sharp right." He gave her a look through the rear view mirror.

"Why did you tell him directions?" John asked looking at her curiously, surely the driver knew the way.

She looked to him proudly, "Around this time the traffic down that road gets worse from lunch breaks from business offices. Would've taken ten times longer or get trapped in it. Not to mention this route is smoother and faster then where he was going." Helena explained folding her hands in her lap.

John blinked as he felt the cab indeed make the instructed turn. "...How?"

"I hang around at that time to get a view of the city life. Like clockwork, same thing everyday at the same time. If I was on foot, I'd be that the destination by now." She sighed, missing her parkour action. "Which by the way, Sherlock?"

"Hmm?" He hummed, acknowledging her as his eyes set sights outside.

"What, for the fourth time, did you need me for?" She strained in asking again.

Sherlock only gave her a half grin. "All in good time." He told and looked back out letting the grin fall. "I trust it will peek your interest."

Helena only groaned throwing her head back as the cab made the sharp right. "Better be worth it, I could be sleeping."

"Yes, I'd appreciate it if you didn't sleep in my bed or go into my room. Assuming the door being shut didn't give the hint of staying out of there." Sherlock added a bit bitterly.

John turned to look between the two, Helena was in his room? Slept in his bed? Her jaw was hinged open shocked he knew. But soon it clamped shut and she grinned. "Lock it next time." Helena retorted back, making Sherlock resist to roll his eyes.

Once they made it to the apartment building, Sherlock climbed out first, then John then Helena who John stayed by in case she needed help. At the front Sherlock pressed the buzzer marked 'Van Coon.' Helena raised a brow at the name, as Sherlock looked into the security camera with John and Helena at the side. Brows knotted at no response so he buzzed again, but still no response.

He glanced at the buzzers as John asks, "So what do we do now? Sit here and wait for him to come back?"

"May as well, he could be out somewhere for lunch or meeting." She guessed with a shrug.

Sherlock steps back looking up at the front of the building calculating the layout of the flats inside. Helena sees what he's doing and goes over, pointing at a tag. "Wintle, lives above Van Coon."

He came back over seeing the tag difference. "New label, just moved in."

The doctor rolled his eyes. "All right, but she could have just replaced it."

"No one ever does that." Sherlock stated.

Helena nodded, "I saw her move in a few days before you found me." She confirmed.

John looked to Helena, she matched his gaze and sighed. "I watch people, John. Don't make me explain myself constantly."

"Join the club." Sherlock mumbled, pressing the buzzer.

" _Hello?"_ Came a woman's voice.

Sherlock turns to the camera with a smile, just as Helena ducked out from view. "Hi! Um, I love in the flat just below you." He started with a tone a bit higher and much more friendly. "I-I don't think we've met." He smiles.

" _No, well, uh, I just moved in."_

The detective gives John a look that proved him and Helena right. He turns back, tone still there. "Actually, I've just locked my keys in my flat." He bit his lip with a grimace, Helena bites her is amusement.

" _D'you want me to buzz you in?"_ She asks kindly.

"Yeah," He nods and the smile drops to a straight yet curious one. "And can I use your balcony?"

" _...What?"_

Sherlock had succeeded in getting the three inside, though Helena was dragged up to the balcony with Sherlock while John waited outside Van Coon's room. The two go to the edge and look over, Helena grins missing a high sight of something. Helena looks down at the street a bit longer as Sherlock moved to the side seeing the balcony below them to Van Coon's. She looked over seeing Sherlock slowly climb over the edge and shakes her head.

"Amateur." She insulted him as she jumped off the edge with ease and landed with a roll to the bottom, though stumbled a tad.

Sherlock landed carefully and looked to her as she grins. "Missed that?"

"God yes." She answered.

He looked over the edge once more as Helena moved to the double door, one creaks open getting his attention. "...Unlocked."

The two entered, gingerly walking around and taking in the flat that is heavily decorated; rich. It came to Helena's mind and her sights were on prices of what she could trade in for. "Don't touch a thing." Sherlock demanded slowly, making her groan softly and follow him deeper into the flat.

Sherlock looked over everything going into the kitchen and checking the fridge, wine was stored inside. Oh, he could touch things, Helena thought. But, he was a detective.

"Sherlock." John called from the other side of the door, "Helena?"

Sherlock checked the bathroom seeing no one as well. Helena peeked in, "Why would his back door be unlocked but no where to be found?" She asked, feeling it grow tense as they continued on.

"Sherlock, are you okay? Is Helena alright?" John called again.

"Exactly my thoughts." He responded glancing at the items on a near by shelf.

Seemed they both were too focused to even acknowledge John's calls. "Yea, any time you feel like letting me in."

The two are stopped by brown wood double doors. Sherlock turns the handles only for them to be locked. He steps back as she approached to jiggle the lock testing to see it, she nods to him. With a quick run they both shoulder charge at the door busting the lock and the doors flew open. Free to walk in, the two stop short finding what they were looking for. Van Coon dressed in a suit laying on his back on the bed, pistol on the floor. A small bullet hole was plain to see in his right temple; dead.


	4. Chapter 4

Helena wasn't new to violence, living on the streets and fighting her way to live another day. Dead bodies, same for other reasons. But as she stood around the corner watching the photographer taking pictures of the dead man, she fought back the urge to run. Police were indeed called and John promised Lestrade still didn't know Helena was with them- or Hawkeye. Sherlock had discarded his coat and scarf by now, and as pulling on a pair of latex gloves. Forensics were elsewhere of the flat so she stuck by John and Sherlock.

"Do you think he lost a lot of money?" John asks shifting foot to foot with folded arms by Sherlock. "I mean, suicide is pretty common among the City boys."

Sherlock looks to him to reply before going to the suit case by Helena. "We don't know that it _was_ suicide."

"Come on. Door was locked from the inside, you two had to climb down the balcony." John argued.

"He climbed, I jumped." Helena corrected, watching Sherlock crouched down looking at the contents of the suit case. John sighed at how Helena was pushing her luck on her health.

"Been away three days, judging by the laundry." Sherlock stood and looks to John. "Look at the case. There's something tightly packed inside it." He tells seeing John not paying much attention.

John nods, "Thanks- I'll take your word for it." and looks away again. Helena frowned, was he annoyed? Angry? She moved closer to the pair standing between them.

"Problem?" Sherlock questions with knotted brows.

He looks back, pausing before answering. "Yeah, I'm not desperate to root around some bloke's dirty underwear."

"I've done worse." Helena gives rolling on the balls of her heels as Sherlock strides to the foot of the bed. John gives an almost curious look, but refrains from questioning.

"Those symbols at the bank, why were they put there?"

"What, some sort of code?" The doctor inquires stepping to Helena.

"Obviously." He examines Van Coon's legs and shoes moving up to opening the man's jacket looking inside the pockets- nothing. "Why were they painted? If you want to communicate, why not use email?"

Helena sighed as she still wasn't told why she followed along with them. "Maybe to scare him more?" Sherlock gave her a look making her carelessly shrug. Just the sight of the rich man and his highly attained flat made her have no sympathy to his death. Cruel, yes. Maybe he had it coming to him. Who knows.

"Well," John tried. "maybe he wasn't answering."

"Oh, good. You follow." He praised checking the vest pockets- nothing.

"No." He responded bluntly, earning his own look from him. Sherlock moved to examine the hands. "What kind of message would everyone try to avoid?"

John thought looking up in confusion, as if the answer was on the wall. Helena noticed this, and had a few answers but those connected to this couldn't be possible.

"What about this morning? Those letters you were looking at?" Oh, he did notice! John looked back seeing Sherlock moved at his face now.

"Bills."

Helena moved closer seeing Sherlock gently open Van Coon's mouth and grasped something inside. Once out, the sight of a small black origami flower was seen by the two. "Yes. He was being threatened."

John leaned in as well, seeing it was indeed a paper flower. Sherlock got a plastic bag used for evidence and slid it in. "Not by the gas board." John commented.

Helena frowned hearing a male voice come closer in demands to the officers. She tugged John's sleeve as she pulled back in fear of it being Lestrade. Though the voice was higher pitch and younger, when he entered it was not Lestrade. Helena was dodging bullets today! John noticed her nerves getting to her and nodded in assurance as she stayed behind him. Sherlock looked up, about to remove his gloves, but saw the man.

"Ah, Sargent. We haven't met." He offered his hand for a shake, though the young man's hands stayed on his hips.

"Yeah, I know who you are, and I prefer it if you didn't tamper with any of the evidence." He told, giving Sherlock a cold look as he lowered his arm. He handed the man the bag who took it looking to the body, Sherlock eyed him.

"I phoned Lestrade. Is he on his way?" He questioned.

"He's busy." Wow, was Helena on a roll. " _I'm_ in charge. And it's not Sargent; it's Detective Inspector." He paused. "Dimmock."

Sherlock gave a near surprised look, this was a young man, younger than Sherlock. Hell, younger than Helena for sure. How did he rank to Detective Inspector?

As Dimmock turned to leave, Sherlock shared his expression with the other two. John simply shrugged as Helena eyed the man suspiciously. The three follow him into the living room as Dimmock hands the bag to one of the forensics.

"We're obviously looking at a suicide." He stated proudly, Sherlock threw his head to the side at that.

"That does seem the only explanation of all fact." John agreed, much to Helena's own surprise.

"Wrong." Argued Sherlock, he removed his gloves turning back around to them. "It's one _possible_ explanation and _some_ of the fact." He looked right at Dimmock as Helena came close between he and John.

"You've got a solution that you like, but you're choosing to ignore anything you see that doesn't comply with it."

John sighed seeing where this was going to go.

"Like?"

"The wound was on the _right_ side of his head."

"And?"

"Van Coon was left handed." Sherlock moved his arm to try and point a gun at his right temple with his left hand showing the difficulty in the process. "Requires quite a bit of contortion."

Dimmock's scowl was growing. "Left handed?"

"Oh, I'm amazed you didn't notice." He gave sarcastically. "All you have to do is look around this flat." And zoom, he went! "Coffee table on the left-hand side;" He pointed two fingers towards the table. "Coffee mug handle pointing to the left. Power sockets: " Then to the sockets a bit farther. "Habitually used the ones on the left. Pen and paper on the left-hand side of the phone because he picked it up with his right and took down messages with his left. D'you want me to go on?" Sherlock asked looking to Dimmock with his voice growing with impatience.

John tiredly answered, "No, I think you've covered it."

"He doesn't looked convinced to me." Helena supported with folded arms.

"Thank you, Helena. I'm almost at the bottom of the list." John nodded at that not expecting Sherlock to stop. He pointed to the kitchen, "There's a knife on the breadboard with butter on the right side of the blade because he used it with his left." Dimmock was now completely annoyed at this point.

"It's highly unlikely that a left-handed man would shoot himself in the _right_ side of his head." Helena nodded in agreement. "Conclusion: Someone broke in here and murdered him. _Only_ explanation of _all_ the facts." He snapped.

The forever silent woman now cleared her throat to speak. "Not to mention, if he had managed to shoot himself, why wasn't it as messy?"

John looked to her, was she on Sherlock's side? Dimmock now eyed her but she didn't notice.

"When a point blank shot is made in close range, it causes a blood splatter or more damage to the head. That was a clean shot right through from a long distance. There should be blood all over his head and the bed as well. Not even a drop was made though."

"My point exactly." Sherlock nodded proudly to Helena, patting her shoulder in a thanking notion.

Only Dimmock still argued. "But the gun. Why-"

Sherlock's head leaned back, God, was he going to ever understand? "He was _waiting_ for the killer. He'd been threatened."

Dimmock watched Sherlock walk over for his coat and scarf. "...What?"

John explained this time to keep the detective from exploding. "Today at the bank. Sort of a warning."

Helena looked to John, "That's why you went to the bank?" John nodded with a 'I'll explain later' look. Great, more waiting.

"He fired a shot when his attacker came in." Sherlock looped the scarf around his neck and took his coat.

"And the bullet?" Dimmock questioned, finding this becoming more absurd.

"Went through the open window." He stated simply, shrugging the coat on and pulling his leather gloves out of his pockets.

Dimmock was done with this and rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on! What are the chances of _that_!?"

"Just as Helena said; the result in a close range fire would not result in his position or the result of the wound. Wait until you get the ballistics report. The bullet in his brain wasn't fired from his gun. I guarantee it." Helena smiled at her statement getting recognition.

Dimmock had one final question. "But if his door was locked from the inside, how did the killer get in?"

Sherlock's brows rose up as he slammed his hand into his glove. "Good!" He praised, condescendingly. "You're finally getting the right questions." He then turned and strutted out with a hint of anger towards this new inspector. Helena looked to Dimmock and quickly followed after him, John hesitates but soon follows the two.

Sherlock and Helena walked ahead down the hall to the elevator with John behind. "Excellent." He said, making Helena look over.

"...Pardon?" She looked up with her hands at her side, swaying softly.

"That comment on how it wasn't suicide." He explained shorty.

Confused at first, she then realized this was his way of thanks. Helena shrugged, "Call it common knowledge, but you're welcome. I think I rather have had dealt with Lestrade than that prick."

Sherlock grinned at her chosen word for the young Inspector. "I have to agree on that." He told, for her ears only.

"So, where to now?" She asked, making it to the elevator and pressing the down button.

"Inform my client." He answered, hearing the ding and entering the elevator with her and John.

"How are you feeling?" He asked her, Helena looked to John with a half smile.

"Better, I really think I should be moving on soon." She insisted, folding her hands in front of her. "I'll repay you both as soon as I can."

John chuckled, "I told you, Helena. You don't have to do that." he assured.

"No, but I want to."

* * *

The three took a cab to where Sherlock deduced where his client would be having a lunch meeting. The client turned out as John explained was a old school mate back in Uni with Sherlock, Sebastian Wilkes. Helena's face scrunched at the name, and the way Sherlock described him he sounded like a right prat.

They made it to a fancy restaurant where Helena resisted the urge to steal little chips off of some tables. Finding Sebastian, Sherlock was the first to speak not seeming to care he was at a lunch in.

"It was a threat. That's what the graffiti meant." He told as John and Helena stood beside him.

The man, Sebastian looked around not expecting Sherlock back like this in middle of his work- or lunch. "I'm kind of in a meeting. Can you make an appointment with my secretary?" He asked with a fake grin his way, taking his glass of water for a sip.

Oh yeah, total prat, Helena decided. Sherlock sighed, "I don't thing this can wait. Sorry, Sebastian," Though he really wasn't. "One of your traders -someone in your office- was killed."

The grin faded instantly. "What?"

"Van Coon." John spoke. "The police are at his flat now."

"Killed?"

Sherlock took a glass of one of the men's water, Helena stepped in. "Killed, murdered, eliminated, assassinated, shall I go on?" He took a sip to hide the grin from the sass Helena just showed to the man.

"Sorry to interfere with everyone's digestion. Still wanna make an appointment? Would, maybe, nine o'clock at Scotland Yard suit?" Sherlock question, slamming the glass down.

Sebastian looked around nervously pulling at the collar of his shirt. He stood and nodded for them to follow, not wanting yo discuss this in front of the other men. Helena, though she wouldn't care, almost followed them into the men's toilets. John stopped her and said he'd inform her on it all and to wait outside. She sighed and agreed to it and waited by the door watching the people eat and enjoy meals without a care of the world.

In the said toilet's, Sebastian washed his hands as John leaned back against the sinks and Sherlock stood off to the side. "Harrow;" he started. "Oxford. Very bright guy. Worked in Asia for a while so.."

"You gave him the Hong Kong accounts." John told, earning a glance from Seb.

He reached for a towel, drying his hands. "Lost five mill in a single morning. Made it all back a week later. Nerves of steel, Eddie had."

"Who'd want to kill him?" John asked.

"We all make enemies." He re-buttoned his suit blazer.

"You don't all end up with a bullet through your temple." John replied quickly.

A mobile phone's beeped echoed out. "Not usually. 'Scuse me." He fished his phone out and read the message turning to Sherlock. "It's my Chairman. The police have been onto him." He paused and looked to Sherlock. "Apparently they're telling me it was a suicide."

Sherlock quickly retorted, "Well, they've got it wrong, Sebastian. He was murdered."

He eyed Sherlock, almost looking disappointed. "Well, I'm afraid they don't see it like that."

"Seb." He gives sternly.

"And neither does my boss." He put the phone away and gave Sherlock a crossed look. "I hired you to do a job. Don't get side-tracked." He left the loo, passing Helena who looked up curiously to see him leave first.

She got a glance from him, he paused, and turned back. Oh God, what did he want?

"You're with them, Sherlock and all?" He asked her, watching her curiously.

Helena blinked and side stepped, "In a way, yes and no. Sherlock dragged me out to this."

Seb grinned at that, "Well, hope he doesn't side track you." He turned and left to return to his lunch meeting.

Frowning, not understanding what he said, she turned and opened the door peeking into the bathroom seeing the men standing there. "I thought bankers were all supposed to be heartless bastards." Came John's voice.

"They are." Helena grinned, earning a sigh from the doctor.

"We're done here," Sherlock informed, leaving to the door as Helena moved for him to exit. John followed, as did Helena.

"So, a man was murdered, the client is a prick, now what do we do?" Helena asked, exiting the building as Sherlock hailed a cab.

John turned to her, "Usually we wait to see if anything comes up. Though a clue was left, so-"

"So, Sherlock will be spending his hours to figure it out?" She guessed.

"Yup." John confirmed.

Helena watched Sherlock have trouble get a cab, she went up to him. "You said before," She spoke as he sighed with no taxi stopping. "You needed me for something. So far," Helena made a face and looked up. "that 'something' hasn't arrived. Instead of making me wait, just _bloody_ tell me why you ripped me from the comfort of the flat with your nice landlady, enjoying tea and homemade biscuits!"

John blinked, not seeing her anger show for a good while, guess this was building up. Sherlock sighed, looking up at the evening sky for a moment before looking down to her. "I wanted your professional opinion." He took his mobile phone and pulled a photo of the defaced painting up showing Helena. "This was on the high floor of the bank office."

"...What building?" She asked looking over the picture before he took the phone back.

"Tower 42."

Helena starred off, mapping out the lay out of the building, it was a across from Swiss Towers. Second tallest skyscraper in London, she's never attempted to climb that though. Oh, would she wish to. But the stricture and built gives her no chance of griping onto anything. It's all glass, only least possible way is the shimmy up between two pillars, hands and feet splayed on the sides. Even then the possibility of getting anywhere to the fifth floor would be too risky. she shook her head, impossible and the person would be spotted by the time they got to the second floor; day or night.

John and Sherlock watched, it reminded John of seeing Sherlock when in his Mind Palace. He guessed she was in her own, Sherlock waited patiently for her resulting answer. Soon, she snapped to them.

"Impossible for anyone, even me, to climb up that building without any support or equipment. Between each pillar looks to be narrow enough to climb up like out of a crevasse or a chasm going upwards." Helena put her hands out to the side and spread her legs showing for example. "Even if they could, they'd be noticed right away and cause a scene much like my own displays. It's the second tallest tower, impossible for anyone to just go up and climb down with ease."

John blinked as Sherlock smirked. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear." Soon the awaited taxi arrived, back to Baker Street.

* * *

That night, Helena spent another night in case another fever broke out, by John's orders. Sherlock had printed the photos he took at the bank and taped them onto the mirror above the mantel. The healing criminal was on the floor feeling her legs were sore from her adventure with the boys, so she sat there spreading the book where she left off. Her jacket back on and returned the shirt and jacket to John. Dr. Watson was on his laptop typing away with a hopeful look in his eyes.

"Something to look forward to, Dr. Watson?" Helena asked, glancing to him.

He looked up. "Sort of. Found a clinic I can possibly work at."

Helena perked, up putting the book down to her knees. "Of course you can, you're a doctor."

"Military Doctor." Sherlock corrected.

She looked to Sherlock then to John. "Oh," Helena nodded with understanding, she closed her book and stretched her legs out on the floor. "I know some people who came back, like this one engineer who was denied a job because he was in Iraq. If they even question about you being in the military, tell them you carry a gun." She threw a smile as John chuckled.

"Jobs are dull." Sherlock stated once more.

Helena just let a small laugh out as John signed, getting to his feet. "Thanks, Helena." He gave, closing his laptop, no doubt planning to take it up to his room. "Get some sleep." John suggested going up the stairs to bed.

Helena soon got up with a small grunt and slid the book back into its place on the shelf. Sherlock looked between the pictures standing in front of them, now and again his fingers pointed around directing things in his mind. Helena perched onto the couch watching him with tired interest. Her eyes darted to the stairs, she really couldn't wait to leave.

"No one will stop you." She turned to Sherlock who still stared at the photos, but Helena knew he peeked at her from the mirror. "Leaving that is."

"What would John do if he found me gone the next morning?" She asked hugging her knees with her chin on them.

"Scold me for not stopping you as you escape back to the life on the streets." Sherlock gave, nodding his head at the window. "Go on about how you're not fit to be out again. When, clearly, you are perfectly fine to be on your own and being Robin Hood of the homeless."

She grinned, always hearing that term towards her. She liked Hawkeye better. "And you?" Helena questioned, as his eyes shifted to her form in the reflection. "You'd be glad a filthy ill hobo will be off your couch and none of your concern, yeah?"

Sherlock blinked and turned to her, almost contemplating his thoughts on her question. First meeting, she stole his possessions, causing a chase between the two to get them back. Second encounter was at the hospital where John 'forced' to have her stay there so he can treat her properly with the help of her phobia. Now, he even asked her opinion for this case on how the defaced painting and the murder was committed. Did he want her to go for getting out of her hair or stay for the case?

"Highly." He answered and focused back onto the photos.

Helena smirked and shook her head taking a blanket and putting it around her shoulders. Her eyes shot outside the window hearing cars beep and people passing by chatter. The life of the city at night she loved to watch, if only she had a better view.

"You'll see me around for sure. Besides," Her eyes shot to him as she stood, letting the blanket fall to the couch. Her feet lead her to him standing beside him to see the photos. "you'll know where to find me, I'll put a good word in around the streets."

Sherlock glanced down to her, he watched her turn and walked past the kitchen and into Sherlock's open bedroom. He stared a bit longer, and then back to the wall. Even if he tried to stop her now, she would be gone out his window by then.

Hawkeye was back and free once more.

* * *

The next morning shined... Well, semi shined. It was sunnier than the day before that was for sure. Though it shined for someone, not yet hopping on roofs. But now was just strolling over them, watching people venture around. Hawkeye smiled seeing the life of the city, she was welcomed back the night before in open arms to her homeless friends. They were doing good during her leave, much to her relief. Right now, Hawkeye was simply relaxing in the warm sun that rarely showed itself.

Thing was, something bothered her in the back of her mind. Those two days at 221b Baker Street was new to her; warmth, comfort, care, company. It's been so long since she's had those. Sure those she helped offered it back, but she said they needed it more than her. Hawkeye did assure if Sherlock looked for her, she was to be informed. The case he was currently on got her mind on that. Climbing up to murder, so she wasn't the only daredevil in the city. And his methods were far worse than her own, she had limits but she also wasn't a murderer.

Because Lestrade was busy, Hawkeye decided to take the chance to get some cash checked in. Her stomach growled, "..Hungry." She commented and looked down the street. Not far, Hawkeye had gone en route to her source of food.

* * *

It was silent once more at 221b. Sherlock was alone once more sitting on one of the dining chairs staring at the photos. Fingers steepled under his chin as variant symbols of different languages faded around in his mind. After Helena's leave, Sherlock looked up on anything of recent murders. It wasn't until dawn he found a news report of one on Online News. 'Ghostly killer leaves a mystery for police' with a photo of the recent victim. Which proved he was right that Van Coon's death was indeed murder, not suicide.

John returned from his interview which he thought went rather well. Entering the living room, he found Sherlock but no Helena. He guessed she was in the bathroom or down with Mrs. Hudson as he did hear her talking. Tossing his coat onto his chair, Sherlock asked,

"I said, 'Could you pass me a pen?'." He stated not looking towards him.

The doctor looked around, did he mean Helena? "What? When?"

"'Bout an hour ago."

John glanced around again, picking up the pen. "To Helena?"

"You, of course."

A sigh escaped , "Didn't notice I'd gone out, then." John tossed it at Sherlock looking to the wall, Sherlock caught it in _perfect_ ease without looking himself. He moved himself closer seeing the photos.

"Yeah, I went to see about a job at that surgery." John informed.

"How was it?" Sherlock asked.

"It's great. She's great." John slipped up.

Sherlock's eyes darted to the doctor. "Who?"

He turned around to him. "The job."

"'She'?"

Realizing his mistake, he slowly corrected. "...It."

Sherlock eyes him a moment, he brought one woman home. He hoped not to have another here again. "Here, have a look." Nodding his head to the laptop beside him folding his fingers.

John walked past Sherlock's view and leaned on the desk to read the article. 'An intruder who can walk through walls murdered a man in his London apartment last night. Brian Lukis, 41, a freelance journalist from Earl's Court was found shot in his fourth floor flat but all his doors and windows were locked and there were no apparent signs of a break in. A police spokesman said they are still uncertain how the assailant broke in.'

Brows knotted as John read back the sentence to himself. "The intruder who can walk through walls."

"Happened last night. Journalist shot dead in his flat; doors locked, windows bolted from the inside. Exactly the same as Van Coon." Sherlock explained.

Straightening up, he looked to his flatmate. "God. You think?"

"He's killed another one." Sherlock confirmed, narrowing his eyes and flattening his hands to a prayer again.

John sighed and moved past him to the kitchen. "What did Helena think on it? Any answers from her opinion?"

Sherlock got up and picked his scarf up, looping it around his neck. "We'll ask after seeing the crime scene. First, to New Scotland Yard which she will refuse to follow us to." He threw his coat on and bounded down the stairs. John soon followed putting his coat back on, not even noticing Helena wasn't even in the flat since last night. Nor did Sherlock find the purpose to tell him, as he'd find out himself soon enough.

After convincing Dimmock with the news report that it was connected to the first killing, Sherlock and John got at most five minutes in Lukis' flat with Dimmock as well. Sherlock was at first going to bring Helena, but didn't have time to find her and if John discovered then the investigation would've been held off more. They walked through the flat, Sherlock inspecting everything with a two second glance. First thought coming to mind, he struts to the window and looked through the curtains seeing the buildings and ground. A smirk played on his lips at this sight.

"Four floors up. _That's_ why they think they're safe." He turned, walking over to look around some more. "Put a chain across the door and bolt it shut, think they're impregnable. They don't reckon for one second that there's another way in." Sherlock turned back to the stairs spotting exactly what he was looking for.

"I don't understand." Dimmock admitted, as Sherlock walks past him.

"You're dealing with a killer who can climb." Sherlock hopped up on a stool to get to the sky light.

"What are you doing?" John joined the two as Dimmock questioned the detective's methods.

"He clings to the walls like an insect." He unhooked the latch and snapped the window upwards, opening it. "That's how he got in."

"What!?" Dimmock was not following what so ever. Where was this man going with these random facts?

Sherlock turns to him. "Climbed up the side of the walls, ran along the roof, dropped in through this skylight."

Dimmock rolled his eyes. "You're not serious! Like Spiderman?"

"He scaled six floors of a Docklands apartment building, jumped the balcony to kill Van Coon."

Dimmock shook his head at Sherlock from his rant of an 'explanation', laughing softly in disbelief. "Oh, ho-hold on!" Though he continued.

"And of course that's how he got into the bank. He ran along the window ledge and onto the terrace." Sherlock stepped down and gave another look around. "We have to find out what connects the two." Looking down at the stairs, he skipped down and picked up a book from the West Kensington Library. Hoping to find answers, Sherlock speeds down the stairs.

Above, Dimmock thinks on Sherlock's words as John darts to the top of the steps. "Climbs like a spider…" John paused looking to the Inspector. He nods to himself, and looks to John. "Heard about that incident last week? The man who was on top of Shard Towers?"

The doctor blinked. "Um, yeah." Dimmock grinned, but John felt his heart sink. "...Y-You think that sh-he did this? Killed those men?"

"Who else publicly climbs buildings and escapes without a trace?" Dimmock was convinced, but John was worried. "It has to be."

He trailed, down meeting Sherlock outside getting in a cab. "West Kensington Library." Sherlock informed the cabbie.

Once the car was in, motion John turned to him. "Sherlock, Dimmock thinks he knows who did it."

"That so? Is it me?" Sherlock questioned boredly, looking out the window.

John hesitated, "No, um, he thinks it's.. It's Helena, or Hawkeye, I guess."

The consulting detective sunk the words in, chewing his lip in thought. It can be a possibility, but he talked with her and she had an alibi for Van Coon's death. Not to mention Helena explained that she can't do what Sherlock says this killer is doing. Her style of climbing was different to this one, he knew she wasn't a suspect.

"He might try to hunt her down." John said worriedly.

Sherlock scoffed, "What makes him think he can catch her. Lestrade can't even keep track of her for more than three minutes."

"Well, all we have to do is keep her safe at the flat." John said looked out his window.

"She's not there." Sherlock stated.

John bit his lip and looked over. "Sorry, what?"

The tall male turned to his shorter blond friend. "I said, 'she's not there'." He stated slowly. "She left last night."

Blinking in shock, he adjusted his seat looking to the side then back at him. "And you never thought to tell me? Did you stop her, even try to keep her there. You have to warn her, somehow, we can keep her safe at Baker Street-"

"She's not meant to stay, John." Sherlock told sternly giving John a low stare. "Before you start saying that I didn't want her around, it's not. She needed to be out there, that's why I brought her with us. To get her some air and to assure she wasn't locked away like you intended. Helena was bound to leave soon, she'll be fine, John."

The doctor breathed through his nose and looked out the window, still concerned for her. "Better be right about this one." He told.

Sherlock turned back out the window. He felt sweat built in his hands so he removed his gloved and folded a fist at his mouth rubbing his hands together. Where was Helena right now?

* * *

Sitting on the edge of a Chinese laundromat, Hawkeye nibbled on a bag of fried noodles she snagged from a open cart. When John ordered Chinese her first night there, they had an extra bag of fried noodles. They were so crunchy and crispy, Helena grinned enjoying her little snack.

"Hawkeye?" She perked and looked over, who was that? The latter clunked as Trevor climbed over the step grinning at her. "There you are."

She extended her arms out in a welcoming notion. "Here I am! Please, come into my lovely abode. Tea? Crumpets?" Helena joked faking a cockney accent, and offered her bag to him.

Trevor chuckled and moved to sit beside her, but kept his distance from the ledge. "Thank you, m'lady." He gave with a posh accent and took a few munching on them.

The two sat in silence watching the people below them. Trevor was the same who had mouthed off Sherlock when asking about Helena a few days ago. His old hockey beanie keeping his shaggy dark hair in place, hazel eyes scanned about watching people leave and enter shops. Once done he wiped his hands letting crumbs fall off his sports jacket and thick dark worn jeans.

"So, done any rounds?" He asked wiping hands over his mouth for any stray crumbs.

"No, just relaxing for the day. Tomorrow for sure, still stiff." Helena excused kicking her legs against the building.

Trevor cleared his throat playing with the strings of his jacket. "So, I tried my best on..." He nodded to her. "y'know, taking care of others."

Helena groaned mid chewing leaning her head back. "Don't tell me you've been trying my methods." She side glanced him with a suspicious look. "You're not exactly the, what's the word? Fastest man around, Trev."

He chuckled shoving her shoulder, "C'mon! I ain't that bad! I wasn't doing that, parkour stuff. I tried to get some dough."

A stern look came to her, she shook her head now looked aggravated. "Trevor, I told you before not to. Only I do it for you guys."

"Well, after being tackled by a large fat cop almost flattened into the ground. I might take the word on it."

Helena chuckled at that softly.

"Sharp turns and put speed into your feet, not all of your legs." She instructed, then pointed a finger at him. "Still, shouldn't have done it.

Trevor rolled his eyes and turned to her sitting cross legged. "But someone had to! You know, I always say, I'll take over when anything happens to you!"

"And this 'anything' is what, Trevor?" Helena gave, turning to him. "Fall to my death?"

"No."

"Caught by police?"

"No, it-"

"Then what? What's the worst that can happen?"

"You leaving us!" Trevor barked silencing her.

Helena frowned with low confused brows. "Leave? What do you mean leave, I'll never leave."

Trevor gave a glare, "Well, you did! Two days you were gone, rumors were spreading the police finally caught you, but I was sure it wasn't true. I had faith you can outrun them any day. Then that Holmes bloke came around asking about you, 'assuring' us you were in 'safe hands' and all. But that could've met anything! Then he has the _gall_ to ask what your 'motives' were! The great, Sherlock Holmes as everyone calls him. He's going to hand you to the coppers, I just know it."

"No, he won't!" She yelled back. "We made a deal; I don't steal from him or his doctor -who, by the way, made sure I recovered properly- and he doesn't report me to the authorities."

Almost with disbelief, Trevor scoffed. "You've become domesticated."

Helena stared at him for a good long while with a thin frown. With silence, she rolled her plastic bag up and shoved it into Trevor's hands. Getting to her feet she walked calmly to the later and started moving onto it to slide down. Trevor watched her and quickly got to his feet.

"Finish the rest, enjoy. Don't want my domesticate to be contagious." She spat lowly and slid down the ladder.

"H-Hawkeye!" He called rushing to the ladder, only to see her already merging out with the crowd.

Trevor groaned and looked down at the bag, with anger he rose it up high to chuck it off. Hesitating, and lowering it slowly, he opens the back and gently eats the rest. She must have gone through some trouble to getting it. And wasting food was something he couldn't afford to do.

* * *

"Damn Trevor.."

**Clink!**

"'Domesticated', my arse!"

**Clink! Clink!**

There were other ways to vent out her anger, this one one of them. Helena chucked another stone at the smoke pipes across the building. Each hit with more force than the one before.

She released a sigh and shook her head, hugging her knees, looking down with a grimace of sadness. "I'm a tramp." She states softly to herself. "How can I ever become domesticated? I didn't even like being there." Helena threw her hood over her head with a sigh.

"-Been in that flat for at least three days." Echoed out a low voice down below.

"Could've gone on holiday." Excused a softer voice.

"D'you leave your windows open when you go on holiday?" Asked the low voice.

Helena looked up, she knew those voices. She got to her feet and climbed over to the fire escape and looked down. "Well, we cross paths again." She called down, leaning on the metal railing on the side. "What are you cats doing on this side of town?"

"Hawkeye, perfect timing." Sherlock called stepping back ready to jump for the ladder.

"Thank God, you're alright." John sighed, as Sherlock jumped at the ladder with ease of his height, yanking it down. He climbed up only to have the ladder yank back up before John could follow.

"Of course I'm alright. Just stopped around here to see what I can snag before taking a break." She assured, looking to Sherlock who stood above her. "How's the case?"

"Gleaming. We're checking this flat, no one's been there in three days. Seen anyone inside?"

Hawkeye shrugged, "I've gotten here myself a few minutes ago. I assumed the person who lives here went out, but it's dangerous to leave your window open around this area."

Sherlock grinned. "Exactly what I thought. Let's check inside." He gave as the two headed to the back of the flat to climb through the window.

"Sherlock!" John called, not getting a chance to talk to her himself. "Hawkeye!" With an exasperated sigh, the doctor ran out to the front of the building

Helena climbed through with ease of her small figure and stepped away for Sherlock to get in. He got through, but the clink of a vase near by tips over, he muffled an alarmed cry, catching it. She looked back seeing his near mistake, but kneels down, feeling the wet carpet. There was water in there, but not enough to cause a wet spot such as this.

"Someone else has been here." Sherlock call4r out the window to John, putting the vase back on the table and looked around. "Somebody else broke into the flat and knocked over the vase, just like I did."

Helena got to her feet and gently poked around as Sherlock investigates the dryer checking the smell before tossing it back in. He feels for a tea towel hanging near by, the sound of a ringing indicated John was out front now.

"D'you think maybe you could let me in this time?" He called pressing the doorbell again.

Sherlock moves onward as Helena opens the fridge, Sherlock reaches in taking the milk carton taking the lid off, he looks inside and gives a small sniff.

"Could you both _not_ keep doing this to me?" John calls through the letterbox.

"Almost bad." He told her, she nodded as he put the lid back on and the milk back in the fridge, shutting the door. "We're not the first." He stated and straightened up.

"What!?" Yelled John, who was holding the letter box to hear better or to have them hear him better.

"Somebody's been in here before us!" Helena barked out to John.

" _What_ are you saying?" She couldn't tell if that question was that he didn't hear or understand. Maybe both.

Sherlock took out his magnifier looking at scuff in the rug that showed the intruder where they stood. "Size eight feet." Helena moved the beads in the doorway for him as he passed through. "Small, but… athletic."

He moved, she put her feet beside it to compare, near the same size but only because she wore size eight males when she was a size nine in a half female. Sherlock took note and looked up at a photo in a frame with hand print on it.

Outside John walked around, sighing. "I'm wasting my breath." He gave and tried the doorbell again.

The two moved as he took the frame examining it. "Small, strong hands."

Helena looked up as he put it back down. "The man who climbs the walls, you think?"

"Our acrobat." He closed the magnifier and slid it back into his pocket. He looked around with a frown though. "But why didn't he close the window when he left?"

The crook then shot around. "Sherlock, one never leaves a window open when invading a home." She stated slowly, eyes shooting around.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at this realization. "Oh, stupid. _Stupid._ Obvious… He's still here." He spotted a free-standing folding screen, someone could hide behind there. Helena moved to the kitchen looking into the bedroom in case he was hiding there too.

She peeked into the room eyes scanning any indication he was here. Without any warning something was kicked into her back throwing her to the floor. She heard thuds of steps fading to Sherlock in the other room, the intruder! "Shit!" She cussed, giving a cough as the wind was knocked out of her. For sure, a huge bruise would appear later on her back. She heard the groans and struggling thuds of the two in the other room.

"John! Helena!" He cried sounding like his was struggling to speak. "Helena!"

Outside, John was none the wiser to the attack as he shook his head in frustration. "No, I'm Sherlock Holmes and I always work with the 'right' people because no-one else can compete with my _massive intellect_!" He shouted through the letterbox angrily.

She finally got to her feet wincing at her back and stumbled into the kitchen seeing Sherlock being strangled by the intruder. "Like to kick, huh?" She rushed over and swung her leg right into the man's neck knocking him off of Sherlock.

The detective was on the floor free but just about lost consciousness. The attacked stood seeing Helena being a struggle as she held her fists up ready to fight back. Her eyes shot to Sherlock's limp form for a split second as he need to get the cloth off from around his neck. Sherlock suddenly started gasping and coughing getting Helena's attention, the assailant used the advantage to escape through the window.

"Damnit..." She muttered, but knelt to the gasping detective and removed the cloth off his neck. "Sherlock! Sherlock, breath!"

He shot up, coughing heavily, she moves as he got to his hands and knees breathing as much as he could for his lungs and brain.

"T-Thanks..." He coughed out, getting to his knees sitting up and digging through his pocket.

"No trouble..." She winced and saw a black origami that was shoved into his pocket. Curious, Helena checked her own pockets, pulling out an identical flower. The two shared a glance.

Sherlock got to his feet, stumbling a bit. Helena quickly stood helping him balance, though careful of her back. "Let's meet with John, that acrobat is long gone now." She told, he nodded in agreement.

John checked his watch one last time before thinking of taking his leave. The door then opened and he gave an 'oh' as the two finally emerge from the building. Sherlock gave his statement in a croaky tone and with a bit of struggle.

"The, uh, milk's gone off and the washing's starting to smell. Somebody left here in a hurry three days ago." He trailed off, giving a clear to his throat.

John watched as Helena shimmied by the tall man and leaned on the wall sighing. "Somebody?" He questioned.

Sherlock nodded, "Soo Lin Yao. We have to find her." he informed.

Helena looked down and noticed a letter, she bent down picking it up as Sherlock still caught his breath. "But how, exactly?" John asked.

She stood showing Sherlock the letter, he took it reading the back of it. 'Soo lin please ring me tell me you're okay Andy' He unfolds it, reading the front of it finding a print at the bottom right corner; National Antiquities Museum.

Sherlock nodded to the envelope, "Maybe we'll start with this."

He walked out, Helena shut the door and walked with them. John looked over, "You've gone all croaky. Are you getting a cold?" he asked Sherlock.

Sherlock shook it off giving a hard cough, "I'm fine." Helena shook her head at him with a grin, still not telling John anything.

* * *

From an alleyway, Trevor saw his friend go walking with that Holmes bloke and a short blond man. He glared the detective as he looked down to speak with her then she looked to John talking to him. The tall man called for a cab, Trevor peeked out more expecting her to leave at that point. But instead, she climbed in with the two as the taxi drove off.


	5. Chapter 5

"You really think that?" Asked Lestrade, as he looked through papers spread over his desk. He looked stressed, rubbing his forehead and glancing up at the man on the other side of the room.

"It has to be him. You said so yourself, you've been chasing him for years and never can figure out where or how he escapes." Dimmock tried to reason, leaning on the desk with his hands.

Lestrade eyed him, "Did Sherlock actually say so himself it was him?" he questioned.

Dimmock nodded in a lie. "He said it was someone who can climb walls. Who else can do it?"

Greg leaned back and sighed, "If Sherlock thinks so, then fine. You can find him around the roof of buildings. But you'll never catch him."

"I _will_ catch him." Dimmock gave with confidence and left the room to start the search.

Lestrade sighed and turned in his chair running a hand down his face. He looked out the evening sky, chewing his lip thinking of the information Dimmock had given. Greg wasn't on this case, but still wanted to know with Sherlock involved. John of course by Sherlock's side, but Dimmock told a woman was with him too. She supported Sherlock's opinion of it being murder, but didn't see her at the second crime scene. The way he described her, it wasn't Molly, and the name was Helena. Lestrade didn't know the person, maybe a new colleague, who knows.

He pulled his phone out opening his message box reading a text he got from Sherlock about a week ago; 'Hawkeye -SH'. It was the night of the media, and Lestrade knowing how Sherlock can be, had to have meant that damned man he can never catch.

"Hawkeye." He muttered, rubbed his upper lip before shaking his head. Lestrade turned to his desk to continue his stress filled work.

* * *

Outside on the steps of the museum, Helena watched the pigeons stagger about for droppings of foods and scraps of sorts. She chuckled, feeling she could relate to the creatures. Her hood sat over her head watching as the sun was setting. Helena instead of splitting paths from the men, she followed the here. John said when they come back out he had something to say to her, but Sherlock insisted they hurry inside before he could explain what.

Back of her mind said she could be out there robbing for money and getting cash, but her bod disobeyed and stayed put on the steps. Sighing she started down at the cement and her boots letting her mind faze out to daydream.

"Excuse me," A voice came, Helena looked up seeing a man. "Do you need help?"

The girl only waved him off with a smile. "Oh no, waiting for someone inside." She pointed her thumb to the building behind her.

The man nodded and walked off. Helena watched him as he was about to cross the street, until two officers came over to him. Oh, was he in trouble? They had a piece of paper that looked like a photo, pointing at it. The man looked at it and nodded, her heart skipped when he pointed at her. Wait, _her_!? The officers followed his gaze, Helena saw the photo- It was of her on Shard Tower from a week ago.

Hawkeye jumped to her feet seeing the men dart at her, she instantly ran into the building, maybe she can lose them there. The crook can hear the officers call her to stop and all that. She refused, questioning herself was how did they get a photo of her or even start searching for her? Hawkeye hasn't done any crimes in over a week or so, she should be in the clear. Something didn't add up.

Running up the stairs dodging people, she ran to the side jumping onto the railing and pulled herself up onto the second floor. She snickered and caught sight of Sherlock and John, she was close. Before she could call them, a heavy weight tackled her down to the tile floor holding her down.

"Ow! Get off me!" She demanded, struggling under the hold of the large security man.

Sherlock and John turned seeing Helena being held down by the man as they were making their leave. Seeing the struggle and hearing her yell, they knew it was her and ran over. Two officers finally caught up as they held her down as well near crushing her.

"H-Hey! That's our friend!" John barked trying to get them off him.

One of the officer looked up showing the photo. "You're friends with Hawkeye, the pickpocket crook and man who is accused of the two murders of Edward Van Coon and Brian Lukis?"

"What!? You think-"

"I'd like to point out, that this 'man' is a woman." Sherlock corrected as they held her up hands behind her back. He reached over tossing the hood off her head as she flung her face to the side moving hair from her sight. "Second, she is not the one who committed those murders."

"I don't murder! I just rob jerks of valuable trinkets! What would I gain from murdering!?" Helena yelled, still struggling in the large man's grip.

The other officer took out a pair of handcuffs, while the first one denied these claims. "Detective Inspector ordered we arrest the criminal named Hawkeye who is a suspect in these crimes. He said Sherlock Holmes claims the murder to be someone who can scale and enter buildings and leave without a trace. So far, the public has seen you do it with video proof on the web."

All eyes shot to the tall man. "Sherlock..." John muttered, "Jesus!" He spat shaking his head.

Sherlock's brows knotted, he did say that, yes. Sure, his claims were close to Helena's work but… He never meant it to target her. He looked between John and the officer. "Impossible, she was with us during the first murder."

"Was she with you during this whole case?" He asked as his partner had a hard time getting the cuffs on her wrists with her resistance.

The consulting detective paused in the defense, tracing back at times she wasn't with them. "No, she wasn't. Hel-Hawkeye was not with us morning of the second murder. We only just ran into her an hour ago in Chinatown."

"What was she doing there?"

John answered this time. "We were looking for someone involved in the case, but they weren't home. The back window was open she was there."

"Uh-huh, no doubt ready to commit a third." He turned as Hawkeye got free of the grip and grabbed her in time from getting away. "I think we can take her to Dimmock for questing."

Sherlock looked to Helena who stared- No, glared him. She struggled harder, no doubt to want to tackle the tall man. "You sold me out! That's why you wanted me around this case! That's why you found me! To get my caught!"

"No, I-" Sherlock tried to reason.

"Don't even talk to me! I never should've trusted you!" She screamed and felt the cuffs click onto her wrists. Helena was turned roughly being dragged away from the shocked men. "I'll never trust anyone ever again! Sherlock Holmes, you lied to me! I never want to see your face again!"

Watching her being taken away, and hearing her echoes of screaming protests caught a lot of people's attention. John sighed heavily and glared his flatmate. "We should've warned her. If we had, she wouldn't-"

"Our job here is done." He stated blinked a few times and walking slowly to the exit. John followed, "She'll be taken in for questioning, they don't have full proof she was the one who did it."

"But Dimmock thinks so." John argued as they trotted gently down the stairs.

"Since when has he been right?" Sherlock retorted.

At the front, police lights could be seen as two cars parked outside the dark roadway. The two saw Dimmock exit a car and grin seeing Helena, but frowned when seeing it was a woman. He talked to the officer, who nodded in confirming it was Hawkeye. He nodded and ordered him to shove her in the back. At first she struggled about getting shoved in, but soon was forced inside. Her eyes looked up seeing the two men she assumed she could trust, staring straight at Sherlock. Before driving off, Helena's breathing got heavier as she started hyperventilating in the back of the car and hung her head lowly.

* * *

Breathing as thickly as she ever had, arms still cuffed behind her back and sitting in a small white soundproof room. Her head rested back against the chair with closed eyes. She tried to imagine herself somewhere else, hands being cuffed didn't help causing her hands to shake. Helena tried to think of the sights of London, and picture herself perched on top of a high building with the wind blowing and sounds of the life ringing her ears.

Outside the room, Dimmock watched her with folded arms. He shook his head, not expecting Hawkeye to be a female. But still, he caught her; a killer and robber. Lestrade thought he couldn't do it, he grinned at his triumph.

Deciding she waited enough, Dimmocked moved to the door entering it quietly. "Enjoying yourself?" He asked, hands in his pockets.

Taking a deep breath, Helena paused. He rose a brow as she didn't respond, but her answer came when she kicked the table roughly knocking it over on it's side. A loud clanking and thunking echoed out in the room. Her head came down and opened eyes met his. Still she didn't speak, eyes bore into his with a death glare.

"Maybe more time is needed? We can keep you here until you start speaking, all night and into morning." He told acting as if he wasn't affected by the random act.

"Let. Me. Go." She demanded lowly and leaned forward letting her hair fall over her shoulders.

"You're a suspect, have a past of committed pick-pocketing and resisting arrest from police." He informed.

"You don't understand." Helena stood taking a step forward. "How could I have murdered Van Coon when I was too ill to even walk?"

"Ill of what?"

"Tetanus." Her breathing started to become uneven again. "If you check t-the hospital I-I was checked in they'll say... They'll say t-the same thing."

He shrugged. "I'll consider it."

Dimmock earned an eye roll from her as he started pacing in a slow circle of the chair. Watching her like a lion in a catch, that's what she was like currently. He removed his hands from his pockets and folded his arms with a curious look.

"Why is Lestrade so obsessed with arresting you."

Helena gave light shrug. "Got me, I just do it for the feeling."

Dimmock frowned, Helena walked over getting close in his face. "Don't you have something you love, like this job? The tense feeling of catching a criminal with the possibility of losing your life or endangering others? Killers and murderers on the loose, and knowing you live with them in the same city, just waiting to strike? Isn't that why you joined the force?"

He stepped back a bit at her intense low words.

"...I climb, and jump, and run, and escape because I love being free of the world. The beautiful sights I can see! I see things that no one else can; in my mind is the entire map of London and I can route out escapes and short cuts around the city within seconds before you even blink. I already know four escape routes in this damned cage." Helena stepped back. "That's why I do it."

Silent, he blinked not expecting such an answer. He turned and walked towards the door, glancing once more as he found her still glaring her. Dimmock opened the door and left her alone in the room, a soft click of the lock echoed. Helena stared and looked to the mirror she knew was a two way for him to see her. She sat back onto the chair leaning forward, moving her wrists around. Clinking could he heard, slamming the chain of the cuffs on the back of the chair soon-

**clank!**

Now with a broken chain, Helena brought her arms forward sighing, at least that feeling was gone but she was still locked in. Her eyes locked onto the glass, she gripped the chair tightly and with all her might chucked it at the mirror causing a huge crack in it but splitting the chair apart from the force of the throw.

* * *

It had been 24 hours since they last saw Helena. John but all concerned, Helena with cleithrophobia, who knows how she was doing locked up at New Scotland Yard. Sherlock, concern wasn't part of him, but John knew he was affected by her words. With her as a suspect, it made him more determined to prove her innocence. At least that's what John saw.

Raz found the two after Helena's arrest at the museum and lead them to the South Bank State Park. The place was covered in graffiti with skateboarding and biking teens doing little to big stunts. Raz showed the yellow spray paint used on the wall forming Chinese symbols. Raz confirmed to Sherlock that the paint was the exact same, he and John went in search for more evidence of the paint.

They both split up to find anything quicker. Sherlock searched along a railway finding an abandoned paint can. He squatting down picking it up, torch pointed at the nozzle as he ran a thumb over the yellow paint on it. Giving a quick sniff, he looked up and around; he was getting close.

John searched through an underpass with lower luck on anything. He saw nothing but wall covered posters, none of the graffiti matching the color. Sherlock passed by a wall also covered in posters, but he stops as one grabs his attention. He quickly reads the corner of it and rips it off taking it with him as he continues. John moved to the railways shining his torch on the ground below him. He spots some yellow specks that grow to splashes, finding a wall he flashes the light on it. Mouth opens in surprised as he steps back for a better look, John had found the entire wall covered in yellow Chinese symbols.

A lead, finally something! John called Sherlock, but he never answered so he ran off to find him. The consulting detective was found looking at a parking freight container. "Answer your phone! I've been calling you!" He barked, getting Sherlock's attention. "I've found it." Sherlock followed as John lead him back to the wall.

But low and behold, once they get there, the wall is covered all black. As if nothing was there at all. "It's been painted over!" John walked over staring in disbelief as Sherlock shined his light around the area. "I don't understand. It-it was here…" He stepped back shaking his head. "...Ten minutes ago. I _saw_ it. A whole load of graffiti!"

"Somebody doesn't want me to see it." Sherlock determined, he rushed to John grabbing the sides of his head.

John frowned at him with knotted brows. "Hey, Sherlock! What are you doing?"

"Shh, John, concentrate. I need you to concentrate. Close your eyes." His hands lowered, gripping his forearms.

"No, what? Why? Why?" Next thing he knows, Sherlock starts to slowly spinning him on the spot. "What are you doing!?"

"I need you to maximize your visual memory. Try and picture what you saw. Can you picture it?" Sherlock questions roughly.

"Yeah."

"Can you remember it?"

"Yes, definitely."

"Can you remember the pattern?"

"Yes!" John exasperated, feeling slightly dizzy.

"How _much_ can you remember it?"

"Well, don't worry-"

The two still span as Sherlock looked at him with thick words. "Because the average human memory on visual matters is only sixty-two percent accurate. It all depends on her!"

John blinked, but answered. "Yeah, well, don't worry- I remember all of it."

Sherlock gave him a skeptical look. " _Really?_ "

"Yeah, well at least I _would-_ " John got out of his grip, "If I can get to my pockets!" And dug for his phone in his coat pocket. "I took a photograph."

Sherlock breaths a bit, calming down as John gets the photo on his phone. He shows the picture seeing the symbols at last. Giving Sherlock the phone, John sighs turning away for a moment as he eyed the detective. He doesn't question the sudden outburst about 'her'.

Without any sleep, next morning rolled in for Sherlock and John. Sherlock was wide awake staring at the photos taped to the wall above the mantel. Now the one of the library and the wall joined the painting. John sat half asleep at the dining table head in hand looking dreadfully dead tired. Sherlock had many questions that John was too tired to even respond to. Denied sleep the, Sherlock took a few of the photos and ran off with John straggling behind. He wondered if Helena got as much sleep as they did.

* * *

"Two men who traveled back from China were murdered, and their killer left them messages in the Hangzhou numerals." Sherlock explained deeply for Andy to understand.

"Soo Lin Yao's in danger and a friend of ours is labeled as a suspect for those murders." John added. "Now, that cipher- it was just the same pattern as the others. He means to kill her as well."

Andy nodded, "Look, I've tried everywhere; um, friends, colleagues. I-I don't know where she's gone." He stammered, worried for her as Sherlock turned his head with a sigh, he spotted something. "I mean, she could be a thousand miles away."

Sherlock moved to the pots displayed in the class case beside them. John noticed his gaze towards something else. "What are you looking at?"

He pointed to the case, walking towards it. "Tell me more about those teapots."

John and Andy approach as he explains, "Th-the pots were her obsession. Um, they need urgent work. If-if they dry out, then the clay will start t crumble. Apparently you just have to keep making tea in them."

Bending down, Sherlock looked more closely at the shelf. "Yesterday, only one of those pots were shining." He paused, eyes shooting to the other pot. "Now there are two."

That night, the museum had a small intruder. No one threatening or such, their main focus was the pots as delicate small hands took one of the non-shined pots and to the back. Soo Lin Yao was there, making tea in the pots the same way she always had. She poured the pot and gently rose it up stirring the contents inside. Highly focused on her work, she didn't notice a tall pale figure stand beside her.

"Fancy a biscuit with that?"

She gasped turning, accidentally dropping the pot, but thankfully Sherlock caught it.

He looked up to her, "Centuries old. Don't wanna break that." He straightens up handing the ancient object back to her and flicked the switch on the desk. The light brightened their faces as he half smiled at her, finally found her. "Hello."

* * *

Twenty-four hours had passed since Helena was locked at Scotland Yard for her suspected crimes of murder. Dimmock had her checked out, but she became less and less responsive as time went on. She was offered food but threw it against the mirror causing the mess the glass. Table was kicked about, a leg broken, the chair was just bits of wood by now scattered in the room.

Lestrade hadn't been given a chance to see the infamous criminal he had been chasing as he was mostly out on another case or in his office with paperwork. Dimmock hadn't heard from Sherlock, wondering if he was done with this case or out to prove him wrong. He soon found out when a call of a murder happened at the National Antiques Museum, Sherlock and John were soon at Scotland Yard to explain it to him.

Although, said D.I. was attempting to ignore them, which he thought was working well. John and Sherlock were currently confronting him on this. "How many murders is it gonna take before you start believing that this maniac's out there?" John questioned.

After checking for a fax, Dimmock walked passed between the two without a glance to a desk. John perseud without a second thought. "A young girl was gunned down tonight. That's three victims in three days. You're supposed to be finding him."

"Until we get any word out on the suspect, I won't be finding anyone." He tells still not looking to them.

Sherlock cuts in front of John who just shakes his head stepping away, he was still guilt ridden of her death. "Brian Lukis and Eddie Van Coon were working for a gang of international smugglers-" He leaned in thickening his voice. "A gang called the Black Lotus operating here in London _right_ under your nose. Helena has no connection to them."

Dimmock turns looked up, "Can you prove that?" Sherlock straightened accepting that challenge.

* * *

The homeless lonely girl sat in the corner; hood over her head arms wrapped around her with knees huddles under her. The small figure shook with her head bobbing slowly almost looking to be falling asleep or breathing deeply.

The door clicked, and creaked open. She didn't look up, not worth seeing the smug look on Dimmock's face. If anymore food was offer she'll fling the food right at him. Not expecting a different voice, Helena heard the mutter of, "God, Helena..."

Her head slowly rose up seeing scuffed shoes and jeans walk to her in a stiff motion. The male knelt down as he lifted the hood a bit to see if she was alright. Helena then knew the man see concerned eyes meet hers.

"Dr. Watson..." She whispered, more like whimper to him.

"Yeah, its John." He gave with a friendly smile, her eyes darted to the door. "Don't worry, its just you and me. No one else." He assured reaching over gently to rub her arm.

"What are you doing here?" Helena asked, still eyeing the door expecting him to charge in at any moment.

"Well, shortly we have proof of your innocence." Her eyes lit up at that. She was to be free once again? John put another hand on her other arm looking at her. "Now Helena, Sherlock will-"

Her face suddenly turned into a deep scowl. "Keep that bastard _away_ from me!" She cried backing into the corner as much as she could.

"Helena, please. He needs to prove this to Dimmock." John tried to reason, gently holding her arms in place. "Sherlock never meant this, he just got too focused I guess." He sighed and let her arms go, his arms resting on his knee. "After you were arrested, Sherlock was more determined than anything to prove you didn't do it. He really did want you involved with the case, because- To me, I think he found an interest in you."

Her brows knotted, "...Interest?" Helena didn't understand by that.

"You think like him, your mind works like his. It must be rare for him to meet someone with that same thought process. He always goes on how the world is full of idiots and we all have boring empty minds. You're not one of them." John explained licking his lips before continuing. "I've never seen him so high strung on a case until you were involved. I told him he should've warned you for your safety, but he said you could handle yourself."

Helena lifted her head, raising a hand to move her head. "...He said that?"

"Yeah, he said once that finding evidence was depending on 'her'. I knew that 'her' was you." John gave a crooked smile. "He's not… _a_ _ll_ that bad." He strained, earning a small huff of soft laughter from Helena.

John reached out feeling her arm, she still shook like a leaf. The door suddenly opened in a rush making the two jump as Sherlock and Dimmock entered. They paused as John got to his feet, moving for them to go to her.

Sherlock finally spotted her in the corner when John moved. She raised her hand to remove her hood, her eyes were puffy red and tear stains were down her face. She was crying, and looked to be for a long time. Dehydrated and hungry, but by the sight of the mess at the glass she refused any nourishment. He swallowed, approaching her and crouching down to her slowly. Helena recoiled a bit and looked down to avoid his gaze.

"Helena, we need to just-"

"Do you remember what I said to you?" She whispered coldly.

Sherlock nodded. "Yes, but-"

"The only reason I am letting you this remotely close to me, is because John told me you have proof to get me out of this Hell hole." She stated with a crack in her voice.

The acclaimed sociopath sighed before putting a hand on her shoulder hesitantly. Helena flinches at the touch and looked up meeting his gaze, she saw something in those electric striking eyes of his. But he could be faking it, like how she's seen his acting before. She looked away refusing to accept that of him as he gently gripped.

"I'm.. sorry." He said softly, earning her eyes to find his. "I'm sorry for putting you through this. I never intended this to happen, I want you to understand this. I know you know this, your mind isn't as dimwitted as _someone's_ here." Sherlock told glancing to Dimmock, earning a scoff from Helena. He turned back with raised brows.

"Alright. What do I do?" She asked, feeling her shoulders become less tense with his hand still there.

Sherlock half grinned, "Just need to see your feet."

Helena frowned, "Excuse me?" her brow raised. Sherlock stood, letting her shoulder go as Dimmock approached. "My feet?" Her eyes met John who nodded reassuringly.

Sighing, her shaking hands reached for her boots removing them. Sherlock bent down again as Dimmock watched him extend her legs out to show the soles of her feet. "Notice there is no tattoo on her?" He pointed out, Helena tried to ignore the heat in her face as Sherlock was carefully touching her leg and bare foot.

Dimmock cleared his throat, looking a bit sheepish. More like stupid, Helena would think. "Okay, this is proof enough."

"That and she was locked up here like a caged animal when Soo Lin was killed." Sherlock spat with a glare.

The Inspector sighed, admitting defeat. "What do you want?" he asks as Helena slips her boots back on.

"Well, first for her to be set free before she suffers another panic attack and every book from Lukis' apartment and Van Coon's."

"Their books?" He questioned. Sherlock nodded, but Dimmock bit his lip. "She's still a criminal to all those past agendas."

"Then I'll pay for her bail, crimes, any of the sort. I don't care." Sherlock bit back.

Heavy breathing echoed, eyes shot to Helena who clutched her chest indeed having another attack from her fear. John instantly went over putting a hand on her shoulder. "Helena? Helena- Breath!"

Sherlock acted quick moving closer to pick her up into his arms as she shook whimpering. "Move!" He barked at Dimmock, who jumped from the man carrying the hyperventilating out of the room.

John followed after, not expecting that nor seen Sherlock move so fast. Hell, he's never even seen him carry anyone before. He rushed after the two exiting the building. Sherlock walked to a near by bench by the cross walks and set her down gently.

"Helena, open your eyes- Look. We're outside now."

Sherlock fiddled with the cuffs, using a key he swiped from Dimmock's desk before taking the damned metal locks off her. Sherlock tossed them aside as Helena took a deep breath hearing, the cars passing. Her eyes cracked opened, looking around seeing the lights of London and cars going by. Helena sighed, her nerves calming down finally.

"You alright?" John asked, coming to her other side as Sherlock stood, hands in his pockets.

Helena nodded, breathing softer, "Thank you, so much." She mumbled looking between them. Moving to stand on her feet, she stumbled into Sherlock who held her upright awkwardly not expecting that. "Sorry..."

"We need to get back to Baker Street. When was the last time you ate?" John asked, Sherlock let her stand on her own. She held her hand tightly on his coat sleeve in case she lost balance.

Helena shook her head. "Back in Chinatown."

The doctor sighed at this, "And slept?" he asked.

She didn't answer to that one, which confirmed John to bring her back to their flat. John helped her to a cab Sherlock called down and rode back to Baker Street. It was silent as Helena sat across the men to give her space after being locked in a room for 24 hours. John watched her now and again while Sherlock constantly kept an eye on her. Halfway through, she laid down on the seat and curled up closing her eyes.

"Glad that's over." John muttered with a sigh, he looked to Sherlock who stared at Helena. Thinking back he approached with a subject. "Sherlock?"

"Hm?" He hummed.

"Now we got Helena, Soo Lin is..." He cleared his throat. "So-"

"She won't stay long." He stated. John looked to Helena then to Sherlock. "Her trust is still thin to us-"

"To you." John corrected, Sherlock met his gaze. "I told her you never meant for that to happen. I think she understands."

"Understand what?" Sherlock questioned.

"How much you focused on getting her out of there." Sherlock frowned at his words and looked back out the window.

Sherlock hadn't noticed that but denied it. It was for the case, not Helena. She was just helpful in it and didn't want any false claims on the murderer. If this was with Lestrade, that whole incident wouldn't have happened or would've gone smoother at best.

* * *

Once they arrived at Baker Street, Sherlock went ahead up to the flat while John woke Helena up, paid the cab, and helped her up the stairs. She instantly took over the couch, John removed his coat and took his chair. Sherlock took his time removing his the gloves and scarf.

"Not just a criminal organization, it's a cult." He says moving the door to hang his coat and scarf. "Her brother was corrupted by one of its leaders."

"Soo Lin said the name." John said looking over.

"Yes, Shan. General Shan." Sherlock glanced to Helena who seemed to have drifted back to sleep.

"We're still no closer to finding them." John said.

"Wrong." Sherlock argued, turning to him and shoving his hands in his pockets. "We've got almost all we need to know." John doesn't speak, giving Sherlock a narrowed look before explaining. "Why did he need to visit his sister? Why did he need _her_ expertise?"

"She worked at the museum." John stated.

"Exactly."

John then caught on. "An expert in antiquities. Mmm, of course. I see." He leans forward folding his hands.

"Valuable antiquities, John. Ancient Chinese relics purchased on the black market. China's home to a thousand treasures hidden after Mao's revolution." Sherlock concluded.

"And the Black Lotus is selling them." John added.

"Online..." The boys turn to Helena on the couch who looked up at them, now awake. "It's too risky to sell them in shops or on the street. If they did it online-" She yawned. "They'd look like a normal auction site."

Sherlock tiled his head at her, then rushed to the dining table opening his laptop to so a search. John got up and walked over to Helena who sat up rubbing her eyes. "Feeling better?"

She nodded giving a yawn, he went to the kitchen to get her something as she still hadn't eaten. Helena got up and moved to look over Sherlock's shoulder to see the laptop screen. He was on Crispians' website and started surfing for recent actions.

She pointed at the screen, "Click that." She told. He did so, the page loaded to a list of Asian works of art.

"Check for the dates…" Sherlock muttered to himself as he scrolled down, then stopped. On the screen were two Chinese Ming vases. "Here, John." He called, John rushed over to see before he could find anything. "Arrived from China four days ago."

Helena leaned in a bit reading the information. "Two undiscovered treasures from the East… Source is anonymous.."

"Vender doesn't give his name." Sherlock grinned.

"One in Lukis' suitcase and one in Van Coon's." John figured, as Sherlock moved the cursor to go to Quest Search.

"Antiquities sold at auction." He said as he typed, but had 'Chinese' at the first before clicking enter. The results listed instantly. "Look, here's another one."

John looked into a book that was no doubt Lukis' diary, as Helena read it out. "'Arrived from China, a month ago. It's a Chinese ceramic statue sold at'- Bloody hell! 'Sold for four hundred thousand'."

"Ah, look." John points to another on the screen that matches what he read in the book. "A month before that- a Chinese painting, half a million."

"All of them from an anonymous source." Sherlock stated, looking up. "They're stealing them back in China and one by one they're feeding them into Britain."

Looking back into the book, John then read at the print out of Van Coon's calendar. "And every single auction coincides with Lukis or Van Coon to China."

"If they were doing this, what could've caused things to go to this?" Helena asked, leaning on the table.

Sherlock looked to her. "What if one of them got greedy when they were in China? What if one of them stole something?" He questioned.

Helena hummed at that, nodding in agreement. "That's why Zhi Zhu's come." John told.

She glanced to him. "Who?"

"The Spider," John stood straight, looking to her. "He's the one responsible for those murders."

"Ahhh, now I see." She nodded, folding her arms.

"Ooh-ooh!" Came a voice with a knock, the three turned finding Mrs. Hudson in the doorway. "Sorry. Are we collecting for charity, Sherlock."

"What?"

"A young man's outside with crates of books."

Sherlock stood and past by Mrs. Hudson, down the stairs. She smiled, walking in seeing Helena. "Hello, dearie." She then frowned. "Ohh, you look so pale. Are you alright?"

John chimed in before Helena can deny anything. "Actually, is there something she could eat, Mrs. Hudson? She hasn't had anything for a while."

"Oh! Of course!" She nodded and rushed down the stairs.

Helena sighed and sat where Sherlock was sitting a moment ago. "Didn't have to do that."

"You haven't eaten in twenty-four hours. Remind me of Sherlock and his habits." John muttered, putting the book down.

Two officers come up carrying a crate of books, they left to get more.

"What habits?" Helena asked, curiously.

"He doesn't eat during a case and sometimes doesn't sleep." John explained, moving across the room as Sherlock came up after a second crate was brought up.

Soon the main room had towers of crated books all over. Helena sat by the fireplace with a tray of food and tea Mrs. Hudson brought up, the boys were on the other side of the crate wall discussing how to maneuver through these.

"So, the numbers are references." Sherlock said, looking over the crates.

"To books." John nodded.

Sherlock turned to him. "To specific pages and specific words on those pages."

"Right, so…" He paused. "Fifteen and one, that means-"

"Turn to page fifteen and it's the first word you read."

"So what's the message?" John asked.

Sherlock answered in a snarky tone, "Depends on the book. That's the cunning of the book _code_. Has to be one that they both owned." Sherlock stepped back and leaned, down reading the two crates with 'Van Coon' and 'Lukis' labeled on them.

John took a look around. "Okay, right. Well, this shouldn't take too long, should it?" He questioned himself, going to the nearest crate and opening it.

Sherlock opened the one he was looking over, he rounded it almost stepping on Helena in the process not seeing her hiding there. He took book after book out and dropping them right beside her. She moved aside, not to get hit by a stray falling book. John took a few books out piling them onto the dining table and taking a seat.

"We found these, at the museum." Helena perked hearing Dimmock enter the room. She peeked between the gaps of the crates seeing him hold up an evidence bag to Sherlock, then turned to show John. "Is this your writing?"

John leaned over and took the bag seeing what was inside. "Uh, we hoped Soo Lin could decipher it for us." Dimmocks nodded. "Ta."

He looked to Sherlock who was too engrossed into the books. He glanced over between two open crates. "Anything else I can do? To assist you, I mean?"

Helena popped up with a plate of her chips, giving Dimmock a welcoming false grin. "Ah, kissing arse are we?"

Dimmock didn't expect her here stepping back a bit. "Some silence right now would be marvelous." Sherlock told, not looking up or surprised at Helena's cut in on the conversation.

He glanced to John, who shook his head showing he wasn't needed for any assist and turned to the books. He found Helena's glare once more, biting his lip he turned, leaving in an awkward silence down the stairs. Helena moved the plate off the crate and sat back down.

"Almost knocked me out with these books." She told the long legged man beside her.

"You chose to sit on the floor, that isn't meant to eat meals on." He softly retorted dropping another book by her.

Helena took one and looked through it, she silently helped the boys in finding certain words on certain pages. She placed books in separate sections in case she found it's twin which was only so far three. Every time Sherlock found two of the same he slammed them on John's desk, messing up his own pile. This continued all through the night, although Helena only made it until 4 am before found asleep, curled in a ball by Sherlocks' feet. He was careful not to step on her when he moved to other crates.

* * *

The next morning rolled by with the sun shining through the curtains of the windows. Crates were moved and books were spread about in even and uneven piles. Sherlock stood in the middle ruffling a hands through his hair and looking about with a sigh. His suit blazer off and sleeves rolled up, hands now on his hips. John's jacket was gone too and he looked extremely tired, though not realizing the time until his watch went off. Even the morning bells could be heard ringing outside. Looking outside, John groaned and rubbed his hands over his face, he had a shift that morning.

John showered and dressed in fresh clothing leaving for his job, Sherlock leaned on the dining table still looking through books not willing to stop now. As the door slammed after John's leave, Sherlock looked up, now noticing he was gone. He searched around and found Helena sleeping in a curled ball still where she was the night before, his jacket blazer draped over her as a makeshift blanket.


	6. Chapter 6

"Helena." Came a voice, she sighed and just stayed still ignoring it. "Helena, get up!" It came more demanding. She groaned using whatever blanketed over her shoulders to pull over her head. "Come on, move!" He demanded, taking her warm comfort from her.

"Jesus, you're such a nag." She yawned, sitting up and rubbing the tired out of her eyes.

Sherlock manuvered around her to get to the bookshelf she was blocking. Helena eventually stood, stretching her limbs feeling the joints crack and pop. "Any progress?" She asked, running fingers through her hair.

"No, just needed you out of the way." He told, quickly scanning the shelf. "A book that everybody would own..." Sherlock whispered to himself, taking three books; Dictionary, Holy Bible, and a third Helena didn't see.

She took them, turning to the 15th page, "Nostrils." Frowning she looked at the cover and gave Sherlock a look. "Why would anyone own _'Syphilis and Local Contagious Disorders'_?" Helena. laughed putting it aside.

Sherlock barely bat an eye at her, chucking the other two aside. He sighed, propping his elbows on the crate and ran his fingers through his messy hair, ruffling it up even more. John soon entered through the kitchen, seeing the two standing by the crate, almost the same as he left; though Helena was awake now.

Sherlock spotted him and dropped his arms. "I need to get some air. We're going out tonight."

"Actually, I've, er, got a date." John smiled.

Helena grinned, "Nice, John!" she praised.

Sherlock frowned at this, John had a date? "What?"

"It's where two people who like each other go out and have fun." John explained.

"That's what I was suggesting, but three instead." Sherlock told.

Helena turned with a questioning low brow look to Sherlock. He glanced at her as John blinked at those words. "No it wasn't… At least I hope not."

"Where are you taking her?" Sherlock asked, going into his trouser pocket.

"Er, cinema." John answered.

Before Helena could ask what movie, Sherlock walked around the crates to John. "Oh, dull, boring, predictable." Taking a piece of paper from said pocket, he hid a grin lowering his head. He handed John a small paper. "Why don't you try this?"

John took it seeing it was an advertisement for Yellow Dragon Circus with a phone number. "What is it?" Helena asked, coming over to see it.

"In London for one night only." Sherlock told, as Helena read it.

John chuckled and offered the paper back to him. "Thanks, but I don't come to you for dating advice." Although he looked at it again, when Sherlock didn't take it. The doctor walked back to the kitchen with second thoughts about his date.

Helena looked around, then to Sherlock who sat at the dining table with a sigh. "I didn't know you were a Mr. Dating Expert." She teased.

Sherlock didn't answer, but looked up to her with a different subject in mind. "I still owe you."

"Hm? Owe me?" She questioned, leaning against the table with folded arms.

"For getting you mistaken and arrested." He informed, folding his hands under his chin.

Helena looked around and back to him. "I thought helping me out of there was owing me? Not to mention, you sort of paid for my past crimes."

Sherlock shook his head and leaned back in his chair. "Let me take you out tonight."

Shocked by his words, she stood to her feet looking at him a bit is disbelief. "You take me out? On what, a date?" She laughs, expecting him to just say he was joking.

Sherlock shrugged. "Yes."

That stopped her laughing. Her brown eyes dart about as her brain steamed into an over working frenzy. A date!? she never been on a date! Helena knew what a date was, before John's vague definition of it was explained. But Sherlock didn't seem the type for these things, so she was off guard at this.

Running a hand through her hair, she nodded. "Uh, alright. Sure. Why not?"

Giving a grin, "Excellent." he stood and wondered down the hall. "Feel free to freshen up." He called, before shutting his bedroom door, was he searching for clothing?

Helena sighed and followed down the same hall, but turned to the bathroom. She forgot the second door was to Sherlock's room, which was open with a crack. Reaching for the handle, her eyes wandered into the room finding the tall male unbuttoning his shirt back to her. Helena tried not to stare when the shirt dropped seeing his toned, bare pale back. Looking so smooth, almost tempted to reach out and feel just to see for herself. Sherlock turned and she shut the door before he could catch her peeking at him. Cheeks hot and red, she locked the door and the other bathroom door before setting the water up for a shower.

* * *

Evening soon came, John and Sarah out on thier first date together. They walked up the slope to a building where John read the circus would be. Seemed he cave and when he suggested this or the movies, Sarah was excited for the circus.

"It's been years since anyone took me to a circus." Said Sarah with an excited smile.

"Right, yes!" John chuckled nervously. "Well, it's… A friend recommended it to me. He phoned up."

"Ah. What are they, a touring company or something?" She asked.

"I don't know much about it." He shrugged.

The two paused, looking at the large red Chinese lanterns strung outside the hall. "I think they're probably from China!" Sarah jokes, laughing.

"Yes, I think-I think so, yes." He laughed with her. "There's a coincidence...." He tells himself quietly. They both walk up into the building, up the steps to the box office to get tickets. "Hi. I have, er, two tickets reserves for tonight."

"And what's the name?" The manager asks.

John takes his wallet from his jacket, "Er, Holmes." he answered.

He rifled through the collection of reservations, and turned to him. "Actually I have four in that name." He showed John the envelope.

John frowned in confusion. "No, I don't think so. We only booked two."

"And then I phone back and got one for myself and one for Helena." They turned finding Sherlock walk up to them with Helena tagging behind him.

John glanced up in disbelief at this stunt he pulled, looking to Helena. She shrugged, looking to be dragged here as well and almost disappointed, but tried to hide it. Sherlock held his hand out to Sarah. "I'm Sherlock. Hope you don't mind a double date."

Sarah shook it and greeted Helena with a smile. "Helen." She greeted, giving John an apologetic look.

Sarah glanced to John and then to the 'odd' couple. "Er, hi."

"Hello." He gave with a short smile, then darted away with Helena following.

At the steps leading up to the main room, Sherlock paused tugging Helena back. "Go ahead and map out how many routes of escape there are in the building." She nodded and went on ahead as he waited.

John marched right up to him, clearly cross with his flat mate. "You couldn't let me just have one night off? Not even let Helena have a night of rest?" John harshly questioned in a hushed tone, as people passed by.

"Yellow Dragon Circus, in London for one day. It fits." He told, ignoring his questions. "The Tong send an assassin to England-"

"Dressed as a tightrope walker." He groaned in annoyance. "Come on, Sherlock, behave! Even Helena didn't look like she wanted to be here. How did you even convince her to come?"

"I told her I owed her, so offered her a date." Sherlock explained quickly.

John sighed, leaning his head back. That's why she looked that way. "God, Sherlock.."

"She needs to see how he does it and confirm it's him." Sherlock told him. "We're looking for a killer who can climb, who can shin up a rope. Where else would you find that level of dexterity?" He paused in his convincing to John. "Exit visas are scarce in China. They need a pretty good reason to get out of that country. Now, all Helena needs to do is map the building, while I have a quick look round the place-"

"Fine." John cut in. "You do that; I'm gonna take Sarah for a pint."

"I need your help." Sherlock told sternly.

"You have Helena to help you, she's just as smart to keep up with you." John insisted. "Besides, I do have a couple of other things on my mind this evening!"

"Like what?" He questioned, knotting his brows as if John was lying.

John blinks at him astonished. "You are kidding."

"What's so important?" Sherlock questioned, back in the hushed tone again.

"Sherlock, I'm right in the middle of a _date_." John emphasized. "D'you want me to chase some killer while I'm trying to..." He trailed off, hoping Sherlock would catch on.

Shaking his head, "What?" he urged.

"While I'm trying to get off with Sarah!" He barked at him, just as Sarah rounded the corner. He turned to greet her with an awkward smile. "Heeyy… Ready?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned to trudge ahead up the stairs to find Helena.

"Yeah!" Sarah replied, excited once more as they follow the tall man. She either didn't hear John or ignored his outburst.

The three joined Helena who stood with a smaller scattered crowd, her eyes darted about mapping things out in her mind. The room was dimly light as the performance was centered in the room, rather than on the stage itself. There wasn't as many people as John had expected, showing not many tickets were favored to be made or interests in other people. Then again, it wasn't advertised on the telly or paper- Like a normal circus.

John glances to Sherlock over his shoulder, who glanced around back to him. "You said circus. This is not a circus. Look at the size of this crowd." He turned to John. "Sherlock, this is…" He gave a distasteful look. "Art."

"This is not their day job." Sherlock reminded him.

"No, sorry, I forgot. They're not a circus; They're a gang of international smugglers." John snapped back.

Sarah glanced to Helena who still was silent. She patting her shoulder gently, "You alright?" she asked Helena.

Helena flinched and looked over, stepping back and shrugging Sarah's hand off. "Yeah, yeah." She assured and looked to Sherlock who turned to her. "Exit one and two are on our left and right, taking the front entrance as an exit would be too risky. I determined there's a back exit behind the stage leading either straight outside or a hall, then outside."

Sherlock nodded, "Good. Now just the timing in investigate." he informed.

Drumming could be heard, everyone's attention turned to the circled center. John looked to Sherlock who quirked an eyebrow at him. Sarah smiled, but Helena silently sighed with boredom, as she shoved her hands in her jacket pockets. A woman in a Chinese headdress and silk robes appeared with traditional Chinese make up. She looked over the small audience before raising a hand, the drummer stopped, silencing the room. A large object on the left of her was hidden under a cloth, she removed it revealing a large old looking crossbow. Chinese strings echo out for a dramatic effect to the performance, Helena tilted her head wondering how this was art. The decorated woman took a large thick arrow, showing the crowd before placing it onto the weapon and pulling it back. The drumming got intense at this point, making Sarah tense with eagerness next to John. She took a feather from the top of her decorated headdress and let it flutter down into the metal bowl. Within a blink of an eye, the arrow whizzed across the room right into the wall with a large echoing **WAMP**!

Some people gasped at it, including Sarah and John who jumped. Helena blinked, never seeing something such as this before, it was pretty amazing! Sherlock wasn't impressed as he just watched, examining how it worked. Sarah placed a hand over her heart not expecting it to go that fast, laughing softly to John.

Helena inwardly was glad this wasn't a real date, she would've wandered off to nick off these people or wander the building. She resisted the urge, Sherlock stood behind her watching onward as the others did.

The audience clapped as a new figure appeared with a head mask of a Chinese demon like design. His body was covered in chain mail as he held his arms to the side, ready for his act to begin. Two men dressed in black started to cover and wrap him in chains, folding his arms across his chest as the string music returned. They brought him to the board, chaining him there. Helena frowned at this, taking a deep breath. The echoes of the chains and padlocks clicking and clanking made her take a step back into Sherlock.

"Classic Chinese escapology act." Sherlock whispered to the three, who turn to him. "The crossbow's on a delicate string. The warrior has to escape his bonds before it fires."

Helena swallowed thickly at the explanation. She turned away as the yanking of the chains causes the warrior to cry out. The drums grew more intense as people looked on, sudden cymbals crashing caused this time, both girls to jump. Sarah jumped at John's side, covering her mouth in embarrassment and looping an arm around John's. He grinned to himself, thinking this date might still have a chance. Helena jumped back bumping into Sherlock. She whispered a 'sorry' as he nodded, seeing her grow tense at the act.

The decorated woman took out a knife as an arrow was already set, she showed the knife to the audience. Sherlock whispered with his explanation again, "She splits the sandbag. The sand pours out, gradually the weight lowers into the bowl."

Helena wanted to shush Sherlock, she felt as tense as Sarah now. She didn't have a worry about the arrow snapping into the man's neck at all. The sounds of chains and seeing him locked up gave her thoughts on her fear. She took another step back nearly moving to get behind Sherlock who didn't seem to notice or bother. Once the bag started lowering and the man struggled, a hand was on Helena's shoulder causing her to flinch. Glancing up, she saw it was only Sherlock, he nodded his head to follow her to investigate. She gladly did.

As the performance continued, Sherlock and Helena searched backstage to find anything this 'circus' carried. Clapping echoed for the next performance, Sherlock eyed something. Helena heard the announcement of the next act as he searched.

_"Ladies and gentleman, from the distant moonlight shores of the Yangtze River, we present for your pleasure the deadly Chinese bird-spider."_

Helena rushed to the curtains gently peeking out, seeing a man soaring around on two red long aerial silk. She shook her head and turned toward the detective. "Sherlock!" She hissed.

He jogged over, peeking above her seeing the performance with interest. "Well, well."

"Son of a bitch, that's him." Helena spat quietly, watching the man.

Doors slammed behind them, Sherlock and Helena took cover behind a rack and clothing, holding their breath. The decorated woman was the one who entered, rushing to the dressing table. Sherlock tried to peak, only causing a rack to fall. Helena ducked his head down and the two hold their breath once more. The woman eyed the rack, but walked right by without a second glance and left for the stage.

Spotting something, Sherlock reached over, opening a bag filled with spray cans. He took one labeled 'Michigan'. The bottom of the can had a yellow band, showing the color of it.

"Found you." He lowly sang to himself, catching Helena's attention.

Sherlock rushed past the rack, shaking the can and sprayed a fine line over the mirror to replicate the one at the bank.

"Just like those others." Helena muttered, walking over to his side. but she caught something in the reflection. "Wasn't that armor standing somewhere else?" She questioned.

Sherlock glanced just as it moved, revealing the armor was not empty. Sherlock and Helena stood back as he swung a weapon at the two. Helena, remembering this almost like the attack at the flat days ago, got behind the man. She swung her right leg up to give a round house kick to his head, only he turned to blocking. He shoved her away and swung the weapon at her, she jumped back as much as she could until the curtain touched her back. Sherlock, still with the can turned the man and sprayed the yellow paint in his face to blind him and shoved him to the ground.

Helena ran to Sherlock's side, arms up as the man jumped back to his feet. Persistent this one was, she noted. He jumped, giving a kick to Sherlock but Helena shoved him back, causing him to fall through the curtain. The large fabric ripped off the support above, Sherlock falling off the stage with it. Helena blocked the kick with her own leg, hissing at the bone on bone contact.

Wind knocked out of him, Sherlock tried to get up from the tangled curtain. Helena stepped back dodging the kicks, falling off as well. She tumbled back to regain her balance on her feet.The crowd gasped as the warrior jumped out, John saw his friends in trouble and instantly ran over. The two were a bit winded from the fall, Helena back on her feet. The warrior raised the blade at her throat, John tackled the man against the wall of the stage just in time. He kicked John in the stomach, who stumbled back at the force slightly stunned.

The performer Zhi Zhu,or Soo Lin's brother, Liang, removed his mask, seeing the event go to Hell. He ran off after Sherlock who was still catching his breath. The crowd ran toward the exits, not wanting to get hurt or killed as the man approached to stab Sherlock. Helena stood before him, glaring at the man as if to draw get past her.

Sarah, of all people, ran at the man with one of the giant arrows and slammed it down upon Liang's unprotected head. He cried out in pain giving Sherlock time to get to his feet, she continued to beat him until he fell to the floor. She panted at the effort, not seemed shaken at all to the three's surprise. Sherlock quickly removed the man's shoe, revealing the same tattoo the other three victims wore.

Sarah gets John to his feet, helping him to Sherlock and John. "Come on!" Sherlock called, they had to get out of there before other members of the gang showed up. "Let's go!"

John lagged a bit. still trying to get a breath after the kick in the gut. Sherlock was almost out of breath from the falling impact he received thanks to Helena.

* * *

The four found themselves at Scotland Yard, much to Helena's disdain. Once they got out of the hall, Sarah called police when they took the leave. Though when they arrived to Dimmock's office, he was in a near outright fury.

"I sent a couple of cars." He informed, storming into the office. "The old hall is totally deserted."

Helena wanted to kick him in the face, so badly. "You think we got these bruises from fighting each other? Sarah here is a witness to the attack!"

"Look," Sherlock cut in, as they followed him. "I saw the mark at the circus- That tattoo we saw on the two bodies: The mark of the Tong."

Dimmock turned to them once they reached his desk. He eyed them as they tried to reason him, hands on hips. "Lukis and Van Coon were part of a-a smuggling operation, Now, one of them stole something when they were in China; something valuable."

"These circus performers were gang members sent here to get it back."

"Get what back?"

Sherlock bit his lip and looked away angrily at that question. Helena sighed and folded her arms, knowing this was their stump. "We don't know." John answered for them.

"You _don't_ know." Dimmock looked to Sherlock who refused to make eye contact. "Mr. Holmes," He sighed, taking a seat at his chair. "I've done everything you asked. Lestrade, he seems to think your advice is worth something." Sherlock rose his head at that, biting back a grin. "I gave the order for a raid. Please ,tell me I'll have something to show for it- Other than a massive bill for overtime."

Sadly, they did now- For now.

* * *

The four man group returned to Baker Street once done at Scotland Yard. Sherlock took his coat and scarf and hing them over one of many still opened crates. Sarah staggered behind a bit, taking in the crowded flat. Helena sighed, running a hand down her face as she flopped into John's chair; much comfier than Sherlock's.

They'll be back in China by tomorrow." John stated, taking his jacket off.

"No," Sherlock denied. "they won't leave without what they came for. We need to find their hide-out; the rendezvous." He moved around the crates to the mantel. "Somewhere in this message it must tell us." Sherlock ran his fingers over the picture of the brick wall, mind scrambling and steaming not knowing the answer.

Sarah looked between them, feeling a bit out of place. "Well, I think perhaps I should leave you to it."

"No, no, you don't have to go," He looks over, "Does she?" and looks back. "You can stay." John answered while Sherlock answered, "Yes, it would be better to study if you left now." At the same time.

They toward at each other, Helena glanced between the two. John gave a dark look and Sherlock just looked pointedly at her. "He's kidding. Please stay if you'd like." John insisted to Sarah.

An awkward silence followed in as Sherlock turned back to the photos, Sarah looked at the three nervously. Helena chewed her lip standing up to pass by Sherlock.

Sarah spoke first, "Is it just me, or is anyone else starving?" she asked.

This caused Sherlock to sigh, closing his eyes with a small, "Ooh, God." John and Sarah look at him, hearing him. Helena shook her head and smiled to Sarah.

"Ignore him, he was the same when he first met me- Worse even." She told as John scrambled to the kitchen to find something to eat. They still had that food he got a few days ago, right?

Sherlock, by now, was at the dining table, papers and more copies of the photos piled around. He searched for a way to translate the message left by Soo Lin. Helena was tempted to read her book, but Sherlock seemed annoyed enough, so she got onto Sherlock's laptop and started Googling for any answers sitting across from him. Sarah looked over at the papers and photos taped to the wall.

"So this is what you do, you, John, and Helena? You solve puzzles for a living?" She indicated.

Sherlock paused, "Consulting detective." he corrected and continued looking through.

"Oh." Sarah wandered over, to looking over Sherlock's shoulder, not really noticing the annoyance radiating off him by now. "What are these squiggles?" She asked, pointing at the paper, closing in on his personal space.

Sherlock looked up, resisting strongly not to bark at her for John's sake… Mostly. "Their numbers." He answered, looking back down he handed the photo to Helena as she searched online. He noticed a grin on her face, he rolled his eyes at her. "An ancient Chinese dialect."

Sarah quickly nodded, "Oh, right! Yeah, well, of course I should have known that." she quipped.

While Mrs. Hudson, now in the kitchen helping John make the kitchen more 'presentable' to eat in, Helena was showing Sherlock something on the laptop. While looking away, Sarah picked up an evidence bag of the photo Soo Lin was translating. Sherlock shook his head at the screen and turned finding Sarah with the item. He gave a short glare and turned to Helena with clenched teeth, almost telling her, 'I'm going to snap'. Helena shook her head, telling him 'leave it be', looking to Sarah. She turned the laptop back around to start a new search.

"So these numbers- it's a cipher." Sarah guesses, looking at the photo.

"Exactly." Sherlock answers tightly.

"And each pair of numbers is a word." She continued.

The two instantly look over in shock by her words. What did she say? "How did you know that?" Sherlock questioned.

"Well," She put the picture down to show the two, pointing at the words. "Two words have been already translated, here."

"John." Sherlock called. "John, look at this."

Sherlock stood, taking the bag from Sarah. John emergeed from the kitchen, Sherlock ripped the bag open to take the photo out. Sarah was right; 'NINE' and 'MILL' written over in black pen. Helena could kick herself, that's why Dimmock asked about handwriting when showing them the back.

John squinted at the photo. "Does that mean 'millions'?"

"Nine million quid. For what?" Sherlock questioned, then turned to Helena who jumped to her feet. He in turn went for his coat and scarf. "We need to know the end of this sentence."

"Where are you going?" John asked the two.

Sherlock handed Helena the photo to put his coat on. "To the museum; To the restoration room. Do you know a way inside?" He asked Helena, as it would be closed by now.

"I know a few safe routes inside." She nodded proudly.

Sherlock grimaced at this late realization. "Oh, we must have been staring right at it!"

"A-at what?" John stuttered.

"The book, John. The book-The key to cracking the cipher." He showed the photo, taking it from Helena for a moment before shoving it back into her arms, taking his scarf. "Soo Lin used it to do this! Whilst we were running around the gallery, she started to translate the code. It must have been on her desk."

"You said she was murdered?" Helena asked, John nodded. Sherlock looped his scarf and slid his gloves on. "Anything she owned in that building would be locked up somewhere there." She turned to Sherlock and the two rushed out.

They burst out of the door onto the street, Sherlock running past the tourist couple, "Taxi!"

The male tourist gets his book knocked out. "Hey, _du! Siehst du nicht wo du hingehst?_ " Helena mentally translates that to herself turning back to the couple. 'Hey, you! Why don't you look where you're going?'

Sherlock turned back, picking it up and handing it back to the man. " _Entschuldigen Sie, bitte._ " He apologized, the man took the book back. The couple grumbled in German as they continued their way down the street. Sherlock groaned angrily, missing the taxi.

"Slow down." Helena told him with folded arms. "They won't be leaving just as you said. Besides, who else could they target?" She shrugged.

Sherlock just grunted in anger as no cabbie will stop for him. He walked down the street a bit in anger with Helena watching him, none stopping for her either. Sherlock gritted his teeth and looked around, noticing a good number of tourists in the area. His mind flashed back to see that London A to Z book before many a times; Van Coon's flat, Lukis' flat, and even Molly had one carrying around with her.

Sherlock bolted into a sudden run, Helena saw him go running in the direction of the German couple. "Please, wait!" He called. " _Bitte!_ "

They do stop seeing Sherlock running toward them, frowning in confusion. They mutter some wonderment on what he wants, but the answer is given when he snatches the book from the man. "Hey, _du! Was macht du!?_ "

" _Minute!_ " He barks at the two, turning back to flip through the pages. Helena jogged over to him as the couple soon gave up, walking away

Helena held up the photo as Sherlock flipped around the book, "Page 15, entry 1." He repeated and got to the page. First entry is, " _'Deadmans Lane NW9'_." He reads out, looking to Helena. "Dead man. They threatening him."

"And he translated right away, trying to hide from them." Helena nodded, "Thirty-seven and nine." she informed.

Sherlock turned to the page, "Fore St Ec2- FOR." He handed her a pen, she wrote the 'FOR' as they started to slowly get the answer.

"Sixty, and thirty-five."

Sherlock next told her "Jade." to which she wrote it down quickly.

The two worked hard together getting the translation complete. Once they got the final word, Helena held it out and read it, "Nine Mill for jade pin dragon den black tramway."

Sherlock bit back a grin, "We got them." He turned down back up the street, Helena following after as the two barreled back into 221b and up the stairs. "John! John! We've got it!" He called, going through the kitchen, but no one was there.

Helena ran into the main room for any sign of John or Sarah, but there was none. "John! We got it translated! The London A to Z is…" She trailed off, staring at the window, eyes wide. "Sherlock…" She whispered.

He approached her and saw the windows in equal horror. The windows were spray painted, the first translation again, "Dead...Man.."

"Oh shit…" Helena ran a hand through her hair, her heart sinking to her stomach.

Sherlock rushed to the bookshelf. His searched about trying to find what he was looking for, feeling his brain slow from the danger his friend was in. "Oh, Christ.." He muttered under his breath.

Helena watched him, never she had seen Sherlock act this way before. He soon found the folded paper and brought it over to the table. He unfolded, it revealing it to be a map. Sherlock slammed his hand down it, "What's the location and fastest route possible?" he asked her.

Her mind kicked in, looking over the map for three at most. Soon her fingers pointed at a location. "There, if you want to go my route, you'll have to keep up." She gave him a warning look.

He nodded assured he could keep her speed. Helena ran out with Sherlock following behind her. Taking on the streets, she ran across avoiding cars with Sherlock close behind. Helena took a sharp turn into an alley, climbing up the fire escape on the side as Sherlock ran up the stairs skipping steps to keep up. Both made it to the roof and she looked over to give her mental map a look, then bolted over the roofs with Sherlock.

* * *

"You've seen the act before." Shan grinned, the large crossbow now pointed at Sarah who sat directly in front of it, tied and gagged. She sobbed praying for someone to stop this. "How dull for you. You know how it ends." She cooed to Sarah.

Here John was, held hostage with his traumatized date God knows where in some tunnel. He didn't know if he was under London or outside of it somewhere. He just knew he was suffering a massive headache, was bound to a chair, and Sarah was to be skewered right before him. General Shan, who revealed to be the lady at the circus, demanding he stop lying about being Sherlock Holmes.

"I'M NOT SHERLOCK HOLMES!" John yelled out frantically.

"I don't believe you."

"You should, you know." Came that damned voice, Shan turned finding Sherlock's silhouette at the end of the tunnel. She cocked the gun she held and pointed it right at him. "Sherlock Holmes isn't nothing at all like him." He jumped to the side, blending with the shadows as one of Shan's thugs hurried toward the opening. "How would you describe me, John? Resourceful? Dynamic? Enigmatic."

"Late?" John muttered in an answer.

"I'd say opposite of those words, including egotistical." Helena rolled her eyes in the dark beside Sherlock, ready for the thug who was approaching.

"That's a semi-automatic." Sherlock addressesd "If you fire it, the bullet will travel at over a thousand meters per second."

Shan still had her pistol pointed. "Well?"

"Well-"

Helena jumped out giving the man a kicked to the jaw, two punches and a kick to the ribs hearing a few cracks. Then a kick to the gut, sending him to the ground. She quickly ducked in the shadows, as Sherlock continued.

"-The radius curvature of these walls is nearly four meters. If you miss, the bullet will ricochet. Could hit anyone. Might even bounce off the tunnel and hit you."

The sound of running softly echoed, Sherlock knocked a fire lit barrel over giving him more darkness and for Helena to get closer. Shan was tense, she moved the gun pointing it anywhere she heard a noise in the echoing tunnel. Sherlock appeared behind Sarah, working on her bonds as Helena was at John's to undo his. She suddenly heard someone cry out, looking up she saw Sherlock being strangled by Liang. She ran over to his aid, leaving John to get out of what Helena loosened already.

The red material was wrapped tightly around Sherlock's neck as Liang pulled tightly to cut off all air supply. Helena charged in to help him, trying to pull him off Sherlock. John saw the weight getting closer to the bowl, he tried to get close to the cross bow in attempt to have it aim elsewhere from Sarah, Helena, or Sherlock.

By this moment, Helena put Liang in a headlock. Only for him to flip her off of, letting Sherlock free momentarily to try Sarah's bonds again. Helena rolled out of the way when he threw a punch her way, she quickly got to her feet. Suddenly, the material was around her neck, and being pulled tightly against her throat.

Things got intense as Sherlock was struggling with Sarah's bond, John was crawling/dragging the chair and himself to the crossbow, and Helena was battling not to lose consciousness. Spots speckled her sight as she felt not air getting to her lungs, falling to her knees and yanking at the material. Her head felt dizzy, gasping to with strangled breathes. Just as the weight got to the bowl, John kicked the crossbow in time for the arrow to shoot off, impaling Liang. Two thuds of Liang's body and Helena's limp one was heard. John finally escaped his bonds and he started to untie his legs free. Sherlock stood, hearing Shan running down the end of the tunnel, making her escape.

Sherlock knelt down to Sarah, she was shaking and sobbing from the near death. "It's all right." He whispered to sooth her, Sherlock removed the gag as she released a sob.

"Sherlock," John groaned, getting up and rushing to Helena as Sarah got free. The two followed him with their eyes, shocked to see Helena's limp form on the ground. John checked her, shaking his head. "She's not breathing."

Without a thought, Sherlock bolted over, John removed the red cloth from her throat. He leaned down to hear anything from her lips, she wasn't breathing at all.

"Mouth to mouth." Sherlock looked up to John. "Give her mouth to mouth! She needs air in her lungs!" He barked at him.

Of course, he knew that. His mind gearing again to perform this, he closed her nose and lowered his mouth locking lips and breathed into her. He rose his head, taking a deep breath and pressed more air into her. By the third time, her eyes shot open she was coughing hard, gasping for air. Sherlock sat her up, hand on her back as she reached for her neck looking for the material.

"It's alright, you're okay." He told, just as softly as he did with Sarah. She nodded, coughing now and again. Sherlock helped her to her feet, letting her clutch onto him for support. Helena saw the lying corpse of Liang, but didn't see Shan in sight.

"You owe me big time..." She rasped tiredly into his coat, Sherlock sighed looking back to the tunnel exit.

The police soon arrived after a call, and Dimmock finally got the evidence to the whole case. General Shan had escaped, but it might seem worthy that one of the henchmen Helena knocked out could spill some things as Liang was dead. John walked with Sarah, a shock blanket over her, and to Helena's annoyance, one on her as well. Sarah was understandably not used to this life. But Helena lived on the streets, avoiding death was her life. She was just suffering a massive headache from being choked as she walked with Sherlock. Dimmock approached him, Sherlock paused to give him a few words.

"We'll just slip off." He told. "No need to mention us in your report."

The man sighed. "Mr. Holmes.."

"I have high hopes for you, Inspector" Dimmock glanced up. "A glittering career."

Sherlock and Helena took a step to leave. "I go where you point me." He said to the detective, causing Sherlock to pause for a brief second before continuing his leave with Helena. Not before throwing over his shoulder, "Exactly."

* * *

The next morning, the boys talked in the kitchen. Helena was offered a night to sleep, but was gone by the time they had called a cab to get back to Baker Street. Sarah was dropped to her flat and John doubted he'd have another date with her. He sat at the table while Sherlock stood by, pouring them tea, he gave a thanks taking the mug.

"So," John was looking at the translated message Sherlock and Helena got through to. " 'Nine mill'..."

"Million." Sherlock corrected, pouring himself a mug.

"Million, yes; 'Nine million for jade pin. Dragon den, black Tramway."

"And instruction to all their London operatives." John hummed back in understanding. "A message; what they were trying to reclaim."

John looked up to him. "What, a jade pin?"

Sherlock nodded, pointing to the photo. "Worth nine million pounds. Bring it to the Tramway, their London hideout."

"Hang on- A hairpin worth nine million pounds?" He questioned, finding that a bit over the top.

"Apparently." He figured, putting a hand.

"Why so much?"

Sherlock paused bringing the mug to his lips. "Depends who owned it." He answered and sipped his tea.

Outside the flat, Helena sat on the roof across from 221b. She laid on her back by the edge. watching the clouds move and form about in the sky. She raised her hand out as if reaching for them. How much she wished she could soar through, them seeing the city from the view of the birds that flew by. Taking in a deep breath, Helena found her thoughts as distant as the clouds. She hadn't stolen or pick-pocket since Sherlock had paid her bail and since she helped with the case, her crimes were diminished. Though she hadn't climbed higher places, she still did roof jumping and climbing up in public. A sigh escaped as she dropped her arm on her stomach and turned to head toward the flat. The door was open and Sherlock was outside coat and scarf adorned as John staggered, out shrugging his own jacket on. Helena got to her feet, up into a crouching position, watching a cab pulled over. The two got in, she smirked and watched it drive off. Standing straight, Helena shoved her hands in her pockets and sauntered off to who knows where.

* * *

A day went by and the boys found out where the pin had been; Van Coon's P.A. Amanda had been using it as a common hair pin. Sherlock explained to her how it came to be, and its worth much to her gleeful surprise. John accepted the check Seb offered, which Sherlock asked John to take some out when checking it in.

The boys now sat at the dining table; Sherlock in his dressing gown over a purple dress shirt, reading the paper. John opposite, in a black and white striped jumper eating a plate of a meal he had made. Sherlock read the front of the paper headlines, 'Who wants to be a million-hair'. He folded it and put it aside before taking another newspaper.

"Over a thousand years old and it's sitting on her bedside table every night." John stated, seeing the headlines as well.

"He didn't know its value." Sherlock explained. "Didn't know why they were chasing him."

"Hmm. Should've just gotten her a lucky cat." John joked. Sherlock smiled briefly, looking away a bit distant. John noticed and folded his fingers at his chin. "You mind, don't you?"

Sherlock glanced to him. "What?"

"That she escaped- General Shan. It's not enough that we got her two henchmen." He told him.

"It's enough to shut Dimmock up though." John jumped, he turned and sighed almost having a heart attack as Helena walked out of the kitchen. Hand in her jacket pocket the other holding a mug of tea.

"Jesus- When did you get here?" John asked, Sherlock didn't bat an eye.

"Just got in." Helena turned to Sherlock. "I got word Sherlock was needing me here. So, what's up?" She asked, sipping the tea.

He reach over to the right of the table, handing her an envelope. She took it and walked to the couch, putting the mug on the table and looking it over. "It must be a vast network, John." Sherlock old, answering John. "Thousands of operatives. You, Helena, and I, we barely scratched the surface." He opened the paper to get more reading in.

"You cracked the code though, Sherlock." John responded, glancing from Helena back to him. "And maybe Dimmock can track down all of them now that he knows it."

"No." Sherlock looked up shaking his head. "No. I cracked this code. All the smugglers have to do is pick up another book."

"What the hell is this?" John took a bite of his food as Helena marched up to Sherlock, glaring him. In her hand was a wad of money, more or less the 5,000 pounds Sherlock asked John to take out. "What is this?!" She exclaims, slamming it down on the table.

"You said I owed you." He told, snapping the paper open and lifting it to hide his face.

She shoved it down to look at him. "Owe, yes. This is charity!" Sherlock looked up at her as she glared, folding her arms. "I don't take money."

"Oh, but we know you won't put it towards you. Split it between who you know needs it." Sherlock retorted.

John looked between the two, slowly chewing his food hoping Helena wouldn't hit him. She took a deep breath through her nose, closing her eyes. Helena took the money and slid it into her back pocket. "Is that all?" She hissed.

"Not quite." Sherlock put the paper down and reached into the drawer to his right pulling out a mobile phone, handing it to her. She raiseed a brow at her, arms still crossed. "I want you to join my Homeless Network. You can be my eyes in the sky, Hawkeye." He threw her a wink.

Helena bit back, but let a weary grin out taking the phone. "I heard from a few about it, what's the catch?" "She asked, looking the phone over.

"No catch- Well," Helena give a look. "Whenever I need your assistance in anything from sights to maps, I contact you. For your help, I send payment to an account you can access anytime."

Helena looked to John, who rose his hands in defense. "I didn't even know he was planning this."

Thinking hard on it, her brown eyes gazed at the phone she kept fiddling with in her hands. Maybe, this is a new change to her life. Leading her usual homeless life into another one. Her eyes went between the two men, she had only known for about a week or more. One who she robbed and the other who saved her life.

Giving a scuff, she tucked the phone down her jacket into her bra and held a hand out to Sherlock. "It'll be a pleasure working in this with you, Mr. Holmes," She offered another to John. "and Dr. Watson."

John smiled taking her hand as Sherlock took her other one, giving a hand shake to her. Indeed! This was something new to all three of them.

"By the way, how did you get in." John asked as Helena took the couch with a sigh, making herself at home. "I didn't hear the door downstairs.

"Oh, I climbed through Sherlock's window." She answered, lifting the mug which she found on said sill of the window.


	7. Chapter 7

A few days had gone by since The Blind Banker case, as John had dubbed it. Helena had the tendency to forget she had the mobile Sherlock gave her on her person, not used to having it on her. She wasn't an idiot though, she obviously knew how it worked. Nothing much has been from Sherlock, Helena assumed cases were slow or he was being picky; as John put it. Helena dropped by to visit Mrs. Hudson for lunch spending time with her now and then. She always tried to offer more than just food to her, but Helena declined them kindly. At one or two points, Sherlock asked for a route to an apartment on one case. Yet Helena had difficulty texting him the map and directions, so she just went to Baker Street and told him herself.

There was one particular rainy cold day, Helena was sitting outside under an overhead of a restaurant, hood up sitting on the cold pavement. She hated rain, it meant no roof jumping as she'd break a bone on the slippery wet surfaces. The phone stashed in her bra vibrated making her jolt, she needed to change that damn setting. Reaching in Helena got it out seeing it was a text from John. He was a contact in case Sherlock couldn't reach her, but he mostly texted when Mrs. Hudson wanted company or Sherlock was driving him up a wall.

She grinned at the screen of her phone.

**Any chance you want to take Sherlock out of here?**  
He's asking for his cigarettes again.  
Get him some fresh air.  
JW

Another text came from said consulting detective this time.

**Where did I last hide my smokes?  
SH**

Helena texted back to John first.

**I can come up and annoy him if he's desperate.  
H**

Then to Sherlock.

**In the left slipper under the couch, there's 14.  
H**

Funny thing with her initials, for Sherlock it meant Hawkeye and for John it was Helena. Soon a reply came from John first.

**So long as you come through the door.  
JW**

She barked a laugh earning a few looks. Then a call came through, she never got a call, and the number was unknown. Helena clicked ignore just to see Sherlock's text.

**Get me some.**  
John just took them.  
SH 

Another came up.

**Stop telling him where his cigarettes are!  
JW**

Helena giggled and the same call rang through. "Persistent little..." Helena clicked ignored again, she thought on how to respond to her texts.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed one of the cameras moving to look right at her. She frowned at and held her hand out to see if the rain had calmed down. Feeling the water pound on her hand, Helena decided to stay in her spot. She shivered thinking about going to Baker Street, but she also reminded herself she can't keep going there when the weather wasn't in her favor. Helena started her text back to John when the call interrupted her for a third time. She finally pressed answer and put the phone to her ear.

"Hello, you have reached someone who doesn't care about this call. Please, never call again."

She was about to hang up. " _I would pause in that decision to hang up, Helena."_ Blinking, she slowly brought it back to her ear. " _Thought that'd get your attention."_

The voice; it was posh and light in tone. Helena can hear the grin in his words, proud to have kept her on the phone. What made it more strange, only John and Sherlock knew the number, the voice belonged to neither of them. It didn't help that only a few knew her real name, again, it sounded like none of those said people.

Helena chose her words carefully, for all she knew it could be someone of Sherlock's case and somehow got the number. She doubted the boys were in trouble, but the voice gave a villain like tone to her. Her eyes shot to the camera out of instinct seeing it moving from the street to her again, she stared at it. "Hacker?"

" _Good guess, but no."_ He told, she knew he was grinning through that damned camera wherever this man was. " _Hawkeye, I ask for you to kindly cooperate when a vehicle approaches you."_

Taking a breath, Helena stood shoving a hand in her pocket to look as if she was ready to leave. A smirk was given to the camera. "And if I don't, deciding to make a scene and cause alarm to people at present when the car arrives?"

A pause was on the other line. " _...I assure in said vehicle men are ready for any resistance that you make. I know your reputation from police on your previous crimes."_

Just then a black Mercedes arrived, Helena hung up as the door opened for her. What was the worst that could happen to her?

She climbed in sitting next to a woman who seemed too into her phone to acknowledge her. Expecting a man, Helena looked to the front of the car, only the driver was present. She huffed as the vehicle moved onto the road, feeling foolish to believe that bluff. Helena glanced to the woman, but didn't speak to her. She wasn't one to approach women as well as men, a flaw she had since childhood. Helena kept track of the route they were heading to, with tinted windows she couldn't see out there so she mentally mapped it out. When the car stopped, the woman with the phone spoke.

"Don't worry," Helena glanced to her, hand on the door handle. "he doesn't have a cage."

Helena nodded slowly and sighed exiting the car. The building was what she had been expecting; a warehouse. "How unpredictable..." She mumbled, taking her time to enter the building.

Wandering around to find the man, not expecting what the man to look like, Helena found herself scaling the stairs to the higher floor of the empty warehouse. "I was expecting you to be swinging through a window, honestly."

With a scoff, her brown eyes gazed around seeing a single chair, no doubt for her as a man stood there across from her. "That'd be too dangerous with the harsh rain." She replied snidely.

He wore a proper good suit; gray trousers, waist coat, and suit jacket, white dress shirt, black tie, and unbuttoned coat to his knees matching the tie. She raised a brow at what he was leaning on, the shape wasn't a cane but a umbrella. Makes sense as it was raining so she didn't question it, though it was dry and his dress shoes were clean.

"But danger is your middle name." He quirked back, removing a hand from his pocket to extent to the chair. "Please, take a seat."

"I'm good, thanks." Helena nodded as she eyed the man. "...So, what's the catch." He raised a brow at her as she circled in her spot looking around more. "Friend held captive or maybe its one of those 'work for me to live' deals?"

"None, I assure." He told calmly, she tilted her head at him skeptically. There was amusement in his tone. "I just wish to speak face to face, to Hawkeye; the eye of the sky."

"I see, so my reputation goes that far?" Helena asked, shoving her hands in her jacket pockets. "So, in case you're wondering-"

"I wasn't, not on that note at the very most." He cut her off with that smug look. She frowned, clearly getting annoyed by this gentleman. "I've seen you around a certain area a few times or more."

"I'm everywhere, what bloody 'area' exactly?" Helena snapped impatiently, narrowing her eyes.

He sighed, "For my own personal concern, what reason do you have to sighting Baker Street?" he asked.

Helena nodded, now grinning. "So, this _does_ have to do with Sherlock Holmes, hm?" Helena took a few steps to the chair and took her hands out leaning on the back of it. "No, I will not send him a threatening message. If this is me being held hostage, note; I will resort to climbing to the roof to escape or jump out one of the many windows." She informed, pointing to the cracked and broken windows before them.

The man started to chuckle as he raised his umbrella, spinning at the cane handle walking to her in slow strides. Helena gripped the chair tightly, ready in case he was about to use the umbrella as a weapon. "You find me to be a villain of sort?" He questioned, standing right in front of the chair that sat between the two.

Helena rolled her eyes, "With the whole camera moving, somehow getting my number, knowing my name, convincing me to get into the car, taking me to some warehouse and approach like this?" she shrugged. "How could I not?"

"We're getting off track, Helena." He stated sharply. "You've worked on a case and been in some assistance of others to Sherlock Holmes. To my understanding you even welcome yourself in the flat when the opportunity is given."

"Usually someone I work under offers tea and food, of course I take it as a 'welcome' to let myself in." She told.

"Through his bedroom window?" He raised a brow.

"Sorry, your name was?" She asked, gesturing her hand to him.

"Not important, but you'll know in time." The man assured.

Helena shook her head waving a finger at him. "That's not how it works, a name is pretty much all that should be given to me since-" Helena frowned and glared him, realizing what he has been saying. "You've been watching me?"

"Ever since you've been taken into the flat, yes." He paused with a sigh and twisted the umbrella into the floor, looking at the rain pounding on the thin windows "Let's stick to the point of why you're here." The man leaned on his umbrella once more. "You are nothing but a homeless thief, who thinks herself as the famous fictional hero Robin Hood; stealing rich to give to the poor. But, you've done less stealing ever since the encounter with Sherlock Holmes. You even now keep a mobile on you, some would say you've become his pet."

"He pays me in return to helping him, since he paid off my crimes." She explained.

"Ahh, I see." He looked to her." Maybe I can take you as my own pet for a better offer." Helena crossed her arms, feeling the phone vibrate in her pocket. She checked it quickly as he continued. "No doubt Sherlock pays you well, but if you gave information of him to me, I can pay you just as handsomely."

**Sherlock made some tea,**  
you arriving soon?  
JW

Helena winced at the text forgetting to get back to them, she put her phone away deciding to reply as soon as she was done here. "So, you're bribing me to snitch to you on what Sherlock does?"

"I can pay you enough for you to have your own home and life. Become domestic-"

Eyes narrowed, pointing a finger at him. That damned word! "Who ever the hell you are, I will never snitch Sherlock to you!" Helena turned, ready to take her leave.

"Mycroft." She paused, turning to him. "The name's Mycroft. I was," He swung his umbrella around again looking at the said item. "hoping you'd be different from John." This caused her to step back toward to him.

"John? John Watson? Wait, you.." She walked up to him, brows knotted. "Are you Sherlock's friend or foe?"

Mycroft smiled to her, feeling achievement for gaining her attention back. "He considers me an enemy. Normal people don't have enemies-"

"Everyone has an enemy." She told quickly cutting him off. "He has many enemies I'm sure with his line of work. I have a few for who I am, what I am. Nothing is 'normal'."

A grin spread upon Mycroft's lips. "That's what I wanted to hear."

* * *

No response came from Helena after John's last text. He wondered if the phone died or she simply didn't get it. Trying not to think of her jumping roofs after stealing something again. The army doctor glanced from the window to Sherlock who typed away on his laptop, near slamming keys impatient of Helena's arrival. An email he got was currently annoying him, he folded his hands at his mouth again glaring the screen.

"Maybe she took a slower route." John suggested, looking back outside. The rain had died down finally.

Sherlock didn't respond.

"After all, she wouldn't dare try to jump this wet outside."

Sherlock hummed in response.

John sighed turning to his flat mate across from him, leaning on the dining chair. "Are you choosing not to care or just oblivious to the fact she hasn't arrived nor replied."

"Oh, please John." Sherlock rolled his eyes at him. "From her not replying within the hour is nothing to grow concern over. Scotland Yard has no reason to be after her, not to mention she lived on her own for twelve years."

He did a double take at Sherlock. "Twelve years?"

"Give or take," He shrugged standing to button his jacket and striding to the kitchen with his mug now empty. "I could be off by a year or three."

"Try two." John jumped at the new voice peeking into the kitchen seeing Sherlock pouring her a fresh cup of warm tea. "Got cold."

"That's what happens when you leave a mug of tea by an open cold window for an hour." Sherlock replied sipping his own freshly poured cup.

Helena grinned, walking into the living room. "Afternoon, John."

He sighed with a small chuckle, plopping into his chair. "Doors were invented for a reason."

"And the day I use them, a collar will be around my neck." She leaning on the dining table, earning a strange look from John, but waved the statement off. "So, Sherlock." Said man joined the others, retaking his seat at the laptop. "Still bored? Or shall I show you the wonders?"

John chuckled at her as she extended her arms out. "Should've been here sooner. The rain slow you down?" He asked.

"Mostly, lost reception going under ground." Helena looked to Sherlock. "What's with the scowl?"

"He got an email that has him very cross." John told.

"Insulted, more like." Sherlock told as Helena turned to read the text on his screen.

What got her attention, was a word that was repeated immensely. A man had sent two emails how he was convinced his Peruvian wife was sucking their baby son's blood. Caught by the nanny multiple times.

Her brows knotted, putting a hand on her hip. "Vampires? Did someone off drugs send this?"

"Trust me, it's not." Sherlock muttered as he closed his email and shut the laptop.

"He's been bored, shouldn't he take the case, Helena?" John asked with hope to get Sherlock to stop whining.

"I refuse to take a case from a client who doesn't take me as serious, John!" He barked.

"Wait, wait, back the train up boys." Helena put the mug down and walked to the mantel to look between the two. "Sherlock won't take this case because it involves 'vampires'? Is that all?"

John sighed. "She sees it's no big deal."

"I-I never said that." She told.

"Rubbish, John, rubbish! What have we to do with walking corpses who can only be held in their grave by stakes driven through their hearts? It's pure lunacy!" Sherlock exclaimed, Helena never seen him so.. insulted.

"Well, I did hear two kids were diagnosed with something like vampirism." The boys brought their attention to her as she jumped to Sherlock's laptop to search what she was talking about. John got up and went to Sherlock's other side looking at the screen. "Here, it's called Hypohidrotic Ectodermal Dysplasia. An extremely rare condition."

She stood allowing Sherlock to sit as he looked read the article to himself. John leaned in as well, reading it out loud. "'Ectodermal dysplasias typically affect the hair, teeth, nails, and/or skin'." John scrolled down that showed two boys with sharp teeth, pale skin, and very thin scraggy hair. "Do they actually suck blood?"

Helena laughed, "No, it's only compared to it because of the looks. If anything it's just a birth defect about sweat glands or something. Sort of like being born albino."

"Well, that lead to nothing." Sherlock gave, not enjoying the two taking over his laptop as they kept getting in his way.

Helena sighed, crossing her arms. "What about the theory of drinking blood to stay young?"

Sherlock mumbled 'God..' in a mixed groan as she leaned back in to search that. Helena scrolled through as Sherlock struggled to get up from the chair and away from the two. Helena took his seat and they both took over his laptop.

"I keep finding bathing, but not drinking." Helena told.

"I doubt a infant has enough to bath in." Sherlock remarked, plopping into his chair by the fire place.

"Should I search the amount of blood in a infant?" Helena asked.

"No!" John gave and took control in typing.

Sherlock sat there questioning how it turned out like this to himself.

* * *

That night, John convinced Helena to stay the night as it was supposed to storm. She reluctantly agreed and took the couch. The night was boring as John just watched crap telly, Sherlock typed on his blog from questions he was given, and Helena just read the book she wished to continue from the shelf. Mrs. Hudson came up at one point checking on them from how quiet it was, but seeing Helena made her burst into a big grin, happy she was safe inside as the rain pounded the windows. She soon joined her down in her flat for some of those tasty biscuits she loved.

"I never heard the boys so quiet before, I was scared the two got into a domestic and weren't talking." Mrs. Hudson told, sipping her tea.

Helena smile swallowing her mouth full, such manners. "Really? I just thought it was normal for that between the two."

A sudden slam was heard, the two looked up at the ceiling as muffled yelling erupted. "Those were for the eggs Sarah made for tomorrow!" Shouted John.

"Where else was I to put it, John!? Besides they weren't that well made." Argued Sherlock.

"Did you-" Another slam, probably the fridge door or jar onto the table surface. Thin walls, Helena thought. "You ate them!?"

"Isn't that what food is for? To eat! You always go on about me not eating enough!"

"I don't exactly mean food Sarah made!"

Helena sipped her tea. "I see what you mean." 

Suddenly a huge thunder crack erupted, causing the woman to jump, then everything went black. The sound of the radio Mrs. Hudson had went dead and the fridge's humming followed in suit. The poor lady cried in a small fright at the sudden darkness as Helena stood. "Good job, boys! You pissed God off!" She yelled at the cieling, going to Mrs. Hudson to help her stand as to not trip in the dark. "Shall we join the boys upstairs?"

"Oh, it's alright, deary. I last checked how late it was, I'll be alright going to bed." She told sweetly as she leaned at the counter.

Soon thudding footsteps echoed down the stairs, as a light flashed down the hall, then into the flat at the kitchen, it was John. "You ladies alright?"

"Perfectly fine." Mrs. Hudson assured as they blinked at the shining torch John held.

"Want to join us upstairs? Sherlock is getting candles set up." He told, shining the light off their faces.

"I was off to bed soon anyway, just be sure not set fire to anything." She told giving John a motherly stern look.

Helena laughed softly as Mrs. Hudson took an emergency torch from her drawer and turned it on. "I'll babysit them, Mrs. Hudson. Don't worry."

They bid her a good night, as John assured to let them know if she needed help in the dark. The two went upstairs finding small light in the 221b flat of candles Sherlock had lit. There was ones on the coffee table, dinning table, and the fireplace was now being worked on.

Helena gasped dramatically, hands on her cheeks with a teasing smile. "Sherlock, it's a perfect moment! Just need romantic music and dinner." He turned giving a glare as John barked out a laugh under his hand to keep his volume low. She patted over as John wandered upstairs. "Need help?"

"I am perfectly capable of setting the fire up." He gave taking the box of matches from beside him. Helena watched, Sherlock took a match out and ran it against the side trying to get spark going. Finding it a dud, he chucked it into the pile in the fireplace. Taking another out, a spark struck from this one and he lowered it in to light the paper mashed with the wood. The paper started to light, but Sherlock held it too long as the heated flame nicked his skin, he hissed at the sudden heated sting, letting the flame grow as the match joined the fire.

"Nice! Not a true man until one makes fire." Helena teased, watching the flames grow as it spread to the wood. "Now we'll be warm." She looked to Sherlock's hand as he picked up the box, she reached over taking his hand to see the his burnt finger.

"What are you doing?" He asked eyeing her with a frown

"Just checking the burn." She defended looking at his index finger seeing a small red mark.

"John can look at it later." Sherlock tugged his hand back.

Helena gave him a look and took his hand roughly. "But I can look at it now."

Sherlock sighed, watching her turn his hand over to see his finger. It was barely first degree burn, it would just itch over night, then swell a bit and then be gone. His eyes searched her, as the fire crackled beside them, their bodies took in the warmth as the cold wind and rain pelted the windows. Her fingers were thin but long, hands were soft despite the roughness she gives living on the streets. They were smaller compared to his hands, though a man his height was expected to have hands his size. Her nails were just over the edge of the tips, they were clean indicating she wore gloves to keep germs and dirt out. Explained how her skin was soft and smooth, it made sense with the cold.

His bright eyes continued to scan up her arms, shoulders, slender neck, and then her face at least. Cheeks were small, but when smiling he can see them perfectly. Her auburn red hair brought out the faded freckles scoring across her cheeks and over her nose, but also brought out those dark chocolate eyes. Natural thin brows, that when arched gave the perfect looks with the best expressions. Some strands of the red hair fell from her shoulder and into her face blocking her site. Helena lifted a hand to move them, but another hand beat her to it, moving the hair for her. Those dark eyes shot up at Sherlock, it was his hand that shot out to move her hair from that soft face. The fire lit her eyes up, seeing the different shades of brown in the true iris of her eyes. Despite the grease look in hair, it was soft and he could feel the waves in the strands that spread down his digits.

Eyes locked onto each other for what felt like an hour at most, until a clear of the throat cut the silence. The two looked over seeing John holding two unlit candles looking between the two with a curious stare. Helena let Sherlock's hand go, he pulled his other back from her face and they both stood stepping a bit away from each other.

"So, um…" He coughed and put the candles down, "I found more, er, candles.."

"Oh, good!" Helena gave, cracking her voice the made her heart skip. A sweat was feeling to break down her neck as she took the matches from Sherlock and rushed over taking the candles. "I'll just take a quick bath." Helena hurried down the hall and into the bathroom with a slam of the door.

John blinked and looked back to Sherlock, who had his stare toward the fire, his back to him. Sherlock's way of avoiding a conversation or hiding something. "Did I interrupt something?"

"Of course not." Sherlock quickly said, a bit too quickly as he stared at the fire.

Not letting this drop, John took his seat in his chair and leaned forward, tilting his head to see Sherlock's face. "I must have, cause I swear I saw her holding your hand. The other was on her cheek."

"I was moving hair from her face and she was examining a burn on my hand." Sherlock snapped, showing his hand with the red small welt.

"And the staring into each others eyes bit?" John added. "It looked like you two were about to snog right there."

"Ugh, John!" Sherlock stressed turning to him. "Anything you are trying to insinuate on happening there, wasn't happening! I was lighting the fire, burned myself, she was checking, some hair fell into her face so I moved it for her to see."

John watched him silently, then leaned back, nodding. "Hm-hmm, makes sense." Sherlock leaned back looking at the fire. "Now, was that going through your mind before or after you moved her hair."

Sherlock took a sharp intake and glared at his blogger. "Don't you have morning shift tomorrow at the surgery?"

* * *

Despite the lack of lighting, the two lit candles was enough for Helena to enjoy her hot bath. She wasn't one for them, preferring showers, but she didn't want to slip from lack of light. So, she decided to stick with a bath. It was silent, only sound of the water sloshing about at her movements echoed in the room. Her cheeks were warm from the hot water, she assured herself. Helena lifted her soaked hands from the water, still having the feeling of Sherlock's hand in hers. A sigh escape, leaning her head back and sunk in deeper into the water letting her hair to become fully soaked. Her mind kept replaying over and over the scene and expression Sherlock gave. Helena could read expressions excellently and map away from Bake Street to the next city over within a second. But the expression Sherlock held, exposed to her, looking right at her-

"Gahh!" Helena gasped, returning to the surface, forgetting where she was for the moment. Panting a bit giving her lungs the needed air, her face was for sure even more red. She brought her hands up to rub her face, giving an aggravated growl as she did so. Helena wanted to just hide here until the boys went to sleep, but she knew she couldn't.

The now clean woman emerged from the water and let the drain suck the water down its pipes as she stood. Helena dried off with a towel John left earlier when she waited for the tub to fill. He offered to clean her clothing -not in an insulting way of course- but not wanting to sleep on their furniture with dirty clothing, she agreed to it. John loaned one of his better looking jumpers and sweat pants. It wasn't until she looked around that her bra was in the wash as well, she didn't really like the unprotected feeling of her bra off. Not to mention sleeping at a flat with two men. The jumper was knitted cream white, it was really perfect for a cold night as tonight. Though it was a bit big on her as the sleeves hung over her hands, curse her thin bone frame. The sweatpants hung off her small hips but she tied the strings tightly to keep them from falling.

Helena sighed and ruffled the towel over her wet hair exiting the bathroom. When entering the living room, she found only Sherlock sitting in his chair looking at the fire. Though hard to tell with the angle, with his hands steepled at his chin his eyes might have been closed. Helena decided not to disturb him and went over to the couch seeing the blanket and pillow set up for her, John was always a step ahead. With the towel over her shoulders she took the blanket and set it up laying it over the couch for when she was ready for bed. The bath woke her up more than tire her out, so Helena walked over taking John's seat, hugging her knees looking at the fire.

"Where's John?" She asked, keeping her eyes on the soft crackling flames.

"Bed." Sherlock answered in a low soft tone.

Helena nodded and propped her chin on her knees. It grew silent between the two, only sound was the rain pounding the city and the fire crackling the snapping wood. The warmth felt good, as was being clean and dry. "It's been so long."

Sherlock opened his eyes, glancing to her. "So long since…?"

She shrugged. "I've been in a warm home during rough weather."

Lowering his arms onto the armrests, Sherlock examined her. "How many years was I off?"

Her eyes shot to him, giving a soft scoff with a smile. "If I don't tell, how much will you pester me on the subject?"

"I'll just keep giving numbers until I get something out of you."

"Does that work with everyone?"

"Yes." Helena rose her brow at that. "It does." He defended.

"I didn't say it didn't!" She laughed, holding her hands up. "But won't work with me, I will say that." He rolled his eyes with a sigh as she grinned. "So only you can deduce people or is it genetic?"

"No, anyone with the brain capacity can deduce anything." He answered tapping his fingers on the arms of his seat.

"Ahh, so you must be the special one in your family then?" She inquired with a grin. Sherlock just eyed her, not answering. "Not fair for me to ask and you not to, right? Okay, two can play this."

Helena fixed her posture to move John's chair a bit closer, Sherlock frowned in confusion at this. She was close enough to be within touching range, taking his wrist with one hand and putting her wrist in his hand. Sherlock then got the gist of it all, taking a good hold of his wrist to feel her pulse as she felt his.

"To answer, you weren't off at all." Sherlock focused his eyes onto hers; pupils right and her pulse normal. "I became homeless at the age of fifteen."

Sherlock grinned at being right, but didn't rub it in as she gave a look to say 'your turn'. "No, I'm not the.. _special_ one. My brother can deduce as well."

"That so..." She nodded mentally noting. "Well, you're turn."

Sherlock was silent, he honestly didn't need to play this game. He was deducing her every time his eyes was on her. From her age to where she got her clothing. Though one thing did catch his attention that has been lingering in his large mind.

The silence made the homeless woman laugh. "What? Can't decide what to ask? I thought you'd have lots of questions." Her fingers gently rubbed his wrist subconsciously.

He released his hand from her wrist and retreat his own from her. With hesitance, Helena leaned back in the chair. "I don't need to ask." He told her.

"Oh, so game's over then? Lasted longer than I thought, to be honest." She laughed, softly looking to the fire.

The two were silent, only the crackling of the fire and rain patting the windows could be heard. The time was a bit unknown unless one of them checked their phones, too dark for Sherlock to read his watch. Sherlock glanced to her, seeing her on her cell typing something, texting who? The contact was to be him and John only.

Helena felt the eyes on her and chuckled. "In case you're wondering, I'm not texting anyone you don't know." She sent a teasing wink, making him roll his own.

"Someone I despise?" He questioned.

"Ohh, we're playing again? I thought you were done." She laughed, pressing send. Helena shoved the phone into her pocket and smiled slyly at the detective. "To answer," She tapped his chin as if needing to think on the answer. "Hmm, _maybe_."

"That's not an answer."

"Yeah it is."

"No, no it's not."

Helena laughed harder but covered her mouth, John was sleeping after all. "Yes, it is!" Was Sherlock really falling into this game of hers?

Said man was about to retort but noticed her game right away and just huffed onto his feet leaving the room. She swore she heard a mutter of 'is not' as if trying to win this war.

Helena snickered and took her phone out sending him a text. She waited, Sherlock came back into the room checking his phone on the desk, Helena hid her phone right away watching him. Sherlock read the text and glared him, she laughed even harder, he gave up and left to his bedroom slamming the door. No more than 2 minutes later her phone beeped. Expecting the text from Sherlock, her brows rose to see it was from him.

Helena read it and just muffled her face into the union jack pillow to mute her giggles.

**Sherlock update:**  
No case.  
Playing with him in the dark.  
H

* * *

"So BORED!" Helena yelled from the rooftop causing some near by pigeons to fly off from her sudden yell. She glared at the birds with envy. "Wish I could fly like you guys." She pouted and sat down at the edge, looking down at the people below. "Someone give me something to do."

The near becoming ex-criminal fell onto her back looking at the gray blue mixed sky. "Rain or sunny? Pick already." She grumbled, then closed her eyes just as the sun shined through. "I didn't mean it." Helena muttered as something blocked the blinding star. "Hi, Trevor."

He raised a brow with a sneer down at her. "Hawkeye bored? The world must be ending if you, of all people, have nothing to do." Trevor teased.

Helena sat up with a grunt as he sat beside her. The last they spoke was during their little fight, Trevor was glad to see her but hoped she wasn't mad still. Well, one way to find out. He took a breath turned to her, "How's life with the detective." No, no!

Helena side glanced him, did he really just...? "It's different." She told keeping her self in check, don't snap.

"Oh..." Okay, she's still cool. Try once more. "Feed you well?"

"What!?"

"Oh GOD- I didn't mean to say that!"

"You said it though!"

"I know, I'm an idiot!"

"Yes, you are!"

The two grew silent staring at each other, almost like cats waiting to strike. Then they burst out laughing at this whole conversation. Her laughing was a big billboard sign that the two were indeed alright. People looked around to figure out where the echoing laughter was coming, from but just later excused it as weird people and continued their way. Helena wiped her eyes from the tears, Trevor held his gut falling onto his back.

"Gonna pee myself!" He let out curling into a ball.

Helena shoved his shoulder, "Freak!" She coughed.

Soon the two calmed down Helena on her back next to Trevor finally able to breath. The two just smiled at the sky, Hawkeye placed her arms behind her head closing her eyes to enjoy a nice breeze coming in. The sun warming her face with a smile, Trevor glanced smiling at her. The light shined on her cheeks and make her hair more maroon than auburn. His fingers twitched with an urge to touch and comb through the soft hair or caress his knuckles against her smooth face. Just looking at her made his heart pound hard and his breathing hitch just a tad. But that small 'tad' made it feel like suffocation seeing her free and happy.

"Still bored?" He asked, finding his voice.

"Not anymore." She whispered softly.

Damn, she was so beautiful, and he loved her for more than just that. Her compassion for helping the less fortunate, knowledge in the streets, risking herself for others, quick wit, and strong will to do anything. That's what made her beautiful.

The two friends pretty much stayed like this until the sunset, when Trevor awoke from a nap, she was gone with nothing but a bag of Chinese ribs in her place.

* * *

Bullet shots ripped through the flat, taking a break every fifteen seconds- Fifteen seconds exactly. The lazy drawl of aiming at the yellow spray painted smiley face on the wall, bullet holes somehow getting the eyes, outline or just down right missing my ten inches. Didn't matter to Sherlock Holmes. In his gray shirt, charcoal night pants, and blue gown proved he wasn't going anywhere today. In fact, he had just gotten home that night and the last thing he wanted to do was go outside.

Bored.

Sherlock Holmes was bored. Unlike the street Hawk who just laid about yelling being bored, Sherlock near tore things about just as it tore his brain apart with no case to solve. This was his own personal hell. Blue eyes looked to the ceiling, the door slammed shut down below and thumping slowly echoed up the stairs. John was home; Sherlock heaved a deep sigh and shot at the wall.

**Bam!**

…

**Bam!**

**Bam!**

**Bam!**

This urged John to run up the stairs, fingers dug into his ear to find Sherlock was indeed the one firing the gun. Upon John's arrival he let his hand hang limp but held the gun firmly. 

"What the _hell_ are you doing!?" John barked, standing on the landing.

"Bored…" He mumbled.

John squinted, leaning into the room. "What?"

"Bored!" Sherlock sprung to his feet.

"No-"

Sherlock shot at the wall a few more times yelling 'bored!' at every shot. John regretted asking, covering his ears once again. Each shot he fired was twisting his hand behind it back. He soon stopped giving the wall a small frown. Taking the chance John seizes the gun out of Sherlock's hand who allows it. The doctor takes the clip out putting the clip down and going to the small safe box on the table. Sherlock wandered to the sofa.

"Don't know what's got into the criminal classes. Good job I'm not one of them." Sherlock grumbled.

John looked up after putting said empty gun in the drawer of the dining table. "So you take it out on the wall?"

"Ah, the wall had it coming." he replied smoothing his fingers against said wall, then ripped a piece of stray wallpaper from it. Almost in a dramatic sense, he wrapped his gown around himself and flopped onto the couch.

John removed his coat as Sherlock made himself comfortable, digging his bare feet into the other end of the sofa. "What about that Russian case?" He asked.

"Belarus." Sherlock quickly corrected. "Open and shut domestic murder. Not worth my time." He folded his hands over his flat stomach, almost looking like he was going to nap right there.

"Ah, shame." John gave, walking into the kitchen. He spotted the mess on the kitchen, throwing his arms up at it. Sherlock made himself homey fast on his return. John will forget how nice it was eating at that table during his leave. "Anything in? I'm starving." The medical man went straight to the fridge, opening the door.

"Oh f-" John slammed it shut and paused. Did he just see? Hanging his head, he paused, then looked back in again taking in the sight of… a head. On a shelf, fully exposed nothing to cover, it was a man's head cut right at the neck. Sure, John has seen some things at war. But never in his life did he _ever_ think to see a man's head, in his fridge. Slowly yet delicately, he shut the fridge "It's a head." He declared. "A severed head!"

"Just tea for me, thanks." Was Sherlock's reply.

"No, there's a head in the fridge." John marchedback into the living room.

"Yes." Sherlock confirmed.

"A _bloody_ head!"

"Well, where _else_ was I supposed to put it?" He looked up at John. "You don't mind, do you?" John just held his arms out, as if his expression of 'yes' wasn't a good enough answer. "I got it from Bart's morgue. I'm measuring the coagulation of saliva after death." John just ran a hand down his face, he rather the bag of fingers than a head. The detective waved his hand lazily toward the laptop. "I see you've written up the taxi driver case."

John glanced to the fridge, he'd deal with that before Mrs. Hudson found out or Helena's next visit. Did she know Sherlock was back? "Uh, yes." He took a seat in Sherlock's chair, finding himself no longer hungry.

" "A Study in Pink". Nice."

"Well, you know; pink lady, pink case, pink phone- there was a lot of pink." Sherlock reached for a magazine on the coffee table flipping through it. "Did you like it?"

"Ummm… _no_."

John's brows knotted. "Why not? I thought you'd be flattered."

"Flattered?" Sherlock lowered the magazine looking to John- no glaring. " "Sherlock sees through everything and everyone in seconds. What's incredible, though, is how spectacularly ignorant he is about some things"."

John shook his head. "Now hang on a minute. I didn't mean that in a-"

"Oh, you meant 'spectacularly ignorant' in a _nice_ way." Sherlock retorted, obviously offended by John's blog entry. "Look, it doesn't matter to me who's prime minister,"

"I know." John softly said to himself.

"or whose sleeping with who."

"Whether the Earth goes round the Sun."

Sherlock groaned at that mention, letting the magazine rest on his chest. "Oh, not that again. It's not _important_."

"Not impor-" John shifted in his seat, leaning over looking to him. "It's primary school stuff. _How_ can you not know that? I bet Helena would know that in a heartbeat if asked."

Sherlock rubbed the palms of his hand into his eyes, doubting she would. "Well, if I ever did, I've deleted it."

"Deleted it?" John questioned.

Sherlock shot up in a sitting position, swinging his feet onto the floor and tossed the magazine onto the table. "Listen." He pressed his finger against his temple. "This is my hard drive, and it only makes sense to put things in there that are useful- _really_ useful." He let his hand drop with grimace passing his features. "Ordinary people fill their heads with all kinds of rubbish, and that makes it hard to get at the stuff that matters. Do you see?"

John was quiet for a bit, taking in Sherlock's words. He bit his lip to resist, "But it's the _solar system!_ " he argued.

"Oh, hell!" Sherlock hissed, burying his head in his hands then shoot back up. "What does that _matter_!? So we go round the Sun! If we went round the Moon, or round and round the garden like a teddy bear, it wouldn't make any difference." John looked away just as frustrated as he was. "All that matters to me is the work. Without that, my brain rots." Sherlock ruffled his hair with his hands and glared at John one last time. "Put _that_ in your blog. Or better still, stop inflicting your opinions on the world."

like a child having a temper tantrum, Sherlock shoved the magazine and turned his back to john. Curling into a ball and pulling his grown tightly around him. As John and Helena would see it. John swallowed and pursed his lips in thought, he jumped to his feet slinging his coat back on. He wasn't going to take Sherlock's little fit of being bored, he didn't need this.

Sherlock heard noises and looked over seeing John with his coat on. "Where are you going?" He asked innocently, as if that spat never happened.

"Out." He answered shortly. "I need some air." John spat going downstairs giving Mrs. Hudson a small 'sorry' near bumping into her. As he left the flat, he crossed the street texting two people; One was Sarah to ask if he could stay at her place. Another was someone who could give Sherlock the needed attention, Helena.

* * *

"Here's some extra blankets, it's going to be a chilly night." Helena's voice softly told to a homeless couple, as they huddled together with the blankets she gave.

"Bless you, Helena. You can always stay with us." The boyfriend offered as the girlfriend drank her hot soup.

"Oh no, you two need the warmth more than I." She assured with a smile. "Just stay warm and together."

"Oh, we will." He grinned earning a slap on the shoulder from his girlfriend.

Helena chuckled and left to check on the others in this small homeless community. Everyone had warm food and blankets putting her hood on as a breeze roughly blew in. She didn't need it, others did. Seeing them taken well care of gave her a teeth chattering smile. As she was leaving the district a 'ping!' came from her cellphone. Helena fished it out seeing a text from John,

**Sherlock is back**  
Staying at Sarah's  
JW

"Ohh, what did you do now Sherlock?" She chuckled, texting back to him.

**I'll go see him  
Give her a hello for me  
H**

The street Hawk then started her way to Baker Street, taking a brisk walk along the roofs. But suddenly a shake to the ground and a loud echoing boom caused her to look towards where possible explosion echoed out and smoke flew into the sky. That was Baker Street! Hawkeye now sped over the roofs jumping ledges and trying to keep her heart rate even. Once she arrived, the smoke caused her to find it hard to see, if it was their flat exactly that blew up or another near by.

She climbed down a fire escape and came around see it was the building across, thankfully, but still those poor people. Her eyes shifted up seeing the glass blown out at Sherlock and John's flat. Helena shoved through the growing crowd and started her way up, climbing the building to get to the open windows. John was gone, but were Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson alright!?

"Sherlock! Mrs. Hudson!"


	8. Chapter 8

It was difficult, but the Hawk got to the window pulling herself through the broken glass. Helena felt something stab her jeans, but ignored it. Her main objective was her two friends and making sure they were alright. The dust caused her to cough, Helena wrapped her hood around her mouth and nose looking around. "Sherlock!"

A groan and coughing erupted, Helena shot to the floor by the chairs. She instantly knelt down feeling his arms and sides, no cuts or glass embedded into him. Sherlock shook his head feeling some glass fall from his hair to get to his hands and knees. "Helena?"

"You alright? Anything hurt or broken?" She asked, helping his get to his knees dusting the glass off him. Helena brought a hand to his cheek to look up at her. "Can you see? Can you hear?"

Hearing was understatement, everything was muffled. He could barely hear her and his sight was blurry. He nodded nonetheless just to hear her talk to help the muffling fade. Her questions were hard to answer as she lifted him off the ground and into a chair, his or John's- it was hard to tell. It was more comfortable than the floor, that was for sure.

Soon his head started to clear up and he managed to look Helena in the eye. Concern and fear were in those eyes. She kept asking what his name was and where he lived.

"Sherlock Holmes. 221b Baker Street." He answered once he was able to form words.

"Alright, you're not brain dead. Good." She smiled, feeling the worry fall off her shoulders. "Any cuts or injuries?" Her hands gently skimmed over Sherlock's arms waiting for any signs of pain. With nothing she felt his legs, nothing. "Good so far."

Sherlock watched her from her knelt position on the floor as he sat on the chair, blood. Why did he smell blood? He knew he wasn't bleeding. Her hands were coming to his face gently touching his cheeks and ruffling any more glass bits from his hair. Eyes shot around to seeing blood on her leg.

"Sherlock! Are you alright!?" The two turned seeing Mrs. Hudson come up the stairs, not injured but looked shaken.

Helena nodded. "Sherlock's alright, I-"

"Oh deary! You're bleeding!"

Helena looked down seeing the cut on her leg was now bleeding into her jeans, she was so focused on Sherlock to even notice. "Ohh, so I am. Sorry, I better clean it up before it leaves stains."

"Mrs. Hudson, help her with that." Sherlock spoke sitting up in his chair, Helena stood as he did.

"Very well, come on dear." The elder woman waved her over, "Careful of the glass." She gently warned.

Helena was careful not to step on any as Sherlock walked past the kitchen and down the hall to his room. Mrs. Hudson led Helena down to her flat to tend her cut, she offered to clean and sew the cut on her pants, but Helena accepted the cleaning and would sew them herself. She stayed down in the flat until they were clean, now and then she heard thudding of people entering the flat and going upstairs. Once they were clean, she put them back on and returned upstairs with a sewing kit Mrs. Hudson lend her.

Back up she found Sherlock now dressed with his purple shirt under his suit jacket inspecting some of his items. His eyes looked up seeing her put the kit on the coffee table. "You okay?" She asked.

"Hm? Oh yes, all is fine." He answered, his eyes catching site of the rip on her jeans now clean. Helena moved around inspecting the rest of the place.

"Jesus, what hell happened? Terrorist attack?" She asked, picking up his music stand that fell over. Peeking outside the fire department and police were already inspecting the building that was blown out across the street.

"Gas explosion." Sherlock answered, seeing his Violin was alright.

The Hawk searched about, picking up papers and placed them on the table. Glass was still everywhere, she went downstairs and reappeared with a dust pan and broom. Sherlock found the bow, it was fine as well placing both items on his chair. He looked over, then down at Helena as she was sweeping the glass.

"There's no need for that." He told bluntly, stepping over to check his laptop.

"Well, someone's gotta clean it. And we all know you won't, I told Mrs. Hudson shouldn't. John isn't here…" She trailed off remembering the text, then paused and looked up at the detective. "Say, what was it you said to John?"

Sherlock simply answered, "Nothing." but he caught Helena's look of doubt.

"What did you two fight about this time?" She asked, sounding like a mother wanting to know what her two sons were fighting for. Helena sat down and got the thread and needle, starting her work on fixing her jeans.

"I don't think that's your business."

"I think it is since John texted me."

"John had no right."

"He has every right."

Sherlock sighed with a small groan, obviously annoyed by what Helena was leading him to. "If you _must_ know, John had written up the taxi driver case-"

"Study in Pink?"

The dark haired detective turned very slowly giving a glare at her words. "...Yes." He hissed under his breath. Helena bit her lip, already feeling him tense when she said that and knowing what caused the argument. Though she guessed he didn't expect her to be reading the blog, thanks 3g phone.

"Was it something about his entry that made you mad?" She asked, Sherlock turned away making her grin. "You were offended." She gave slowly. "Wow, I didn't know that was possible. Well, I guess possible, but hard to imagine."

"He doesn't seem to understand how I work." He told, moving his and John's laptops.

Helena chuckled. "No one really ever does, Sherlock."

Sherlock wanted to counter with a 'you do', but did she? She thought the same using her brain for useful routes through London just as he keeps needed information only for his cases. Thinking of where to go and how to get there within seconds was just as fast as him figuring a puzzle out.

"I do."

His eyes shot to her, her own were down as the needle work. Sherlock didn't want to say he wasn't expecting her to know sewing because being a female, but he has seen stitch patterns on her hoodie a few times. No doubt from her runs of escaping the police, cutting and ripping her clothing. It seemed the homeless community had more clothing than she had since her-

"Helena." He called watching her.

"Hm?"

Sherlock moved closer taking careful steps, not of the glass just careful to Helena. His long arms reached for the chair by the table, sweeping glass and dust off before taking a seat across from her. He took a breath, and spoke.

"You're a thieving Samaritan of London, starting at the age of seventeen two years after your homeless life started when you stole a pocket watch from an ambassador. You soon became the known 'Hawkeye', popping up at random sights becoming an obsession to Lestrade. Running around making Scotland Yard chasing their tails is your favorite way to pass the time, making them look foolish."

Helena paused her sewing, staring at him with knotted brows. Sherlock was using as much gathered information as he had to confront Helena with his deductions.

"There's a scar on your torso, lower abdomen to be exact. By the look of where its located could be counted as a stab wound. It's not fresh so must have gotten it young." Sherlock locked his fingers together in his lap with his legs crossed. "The cause of your 'choice' to be homeless is running away from your home. Reason could be of any typical teenager; marriage, new family member, not feeling the freedom sound more up your alley." He took a breath, eyes still locked with hers. "It would explain your distrust to people and choice of solitude. Your passion for the homeless comes from an experience of your own." Sherlock paused and pressed his flat fingers to his chin, leaning back he thought.

Helena just watched him, her expression stone. She waited when he would deduce her, it was unexpected to her that's for sure.

"...Your father." He breathed out, her eyes twitched at that. "He died, did he not?"

Helena bit her lip showing obvious signs he was right. But he wanted to hear it straight from her. Letting a sigh escape, she nimbly played with the needle cutting contact with his eyes. "He was my hero. Always getting me out of trouble in school. I started fights a lot defending other people who were bullied. Always understood my beliefs in standing up for whats right and all that."

Sherlock was silent listening to her tale.

A weary smile graced her lips. "He kept a lot of my trouble from my mother. She never approved of what I did and always blamed me for being the black sheep of the family. Curtis… He-"

"Curtis?" Sherlock questioned, then it clicked. "You're older brother."

"Younger." The detective mentally cursed, never could he get siblings right. "I hid all the bad things from him, kept the bliss in his life. Protected him as much as I could from how bad the world could be."

"..But."

"Ah, isn't there always?" She asked finally looking up with glassy eyes, but shot down to her jeans to hide them from him. Her fingers continued the sewing. "My dad died saving me. I was helping a homeless man who was being harassed by some jerks who thought it was funny to make jokes on him. They.. they had a gun."

Sherlock looked down noting her hands were becoming sloppy with her sewing than before. She obviously wasn't paying attention as she continued.

"I never handled anyone with it, and I froze on the spot. The man ran off leaving me to the men, it was just as they put me against the wall.. My father arrived. They shot him.. r-right in the chest and-" Her voice quivered but she swallowed to keep herself calm. What would crying do? And doing so in front of Sherlock.

"You're father's death caused you to leave your family." He indicated not daring to move, Helena though just nodded.

How did it get to this, they both wondered. Helena just wanted to check on Sherlock who was alright and help clean the mess the explosion caused. Sherlock wanted to read her like a book and finally has. But seeing her go silent gave a heavy faint feeling in his chest. Why? He always got this reaction but never cared how it hurt them. It amazed John, maybe Sherlock expected her to react the same as he did.

The room indeed stayed silent as Helena finished sewing her jeans and putting the kit away leaving it on the table. Sherlock stood right at the same time Helena did, her eyes darting around as if looking for something.

"This is the part where you call me names, maybe hit me." Sherlock told fixing his suit jacket.

She looked up raising a brow, though eyes were still glossy they held amusement. "Why would I do that?"

He blinked. "Because everyone else does."

She chuckled and approached him, her arm raised up to pat his cheek gently. "You should know better than that, Sherlock. Am I just like everyone else?" She gave a smile and turned, picking up the sewing kit. His eyes watched as she waltzed down the stairs to return the kit to Mrs. Hudson.

The damned brunette ran a hand through his hair, why was she so different and fascinating!?

Before returning she sent a text.

**With Sherlock tonight.**  
Explosion.  
H

* * *

Helena stayed the night to make sure all was well with Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson. She was a bit shaken, so Helena stayed with her late into the night assuring all was fine until she went to sleep. She and Sherlock stayed up, he of course never getting sleep and her to play knight. Originally Helena thought he would be investigating the explosion but he showed little to no care to the incident. The fire department outside started boarding up the windows by the time it was around 5am. Despite the loud hammering the two didn't pay much heed to the work. Helena was going to clean more up, but couldn't find the broom and duster she had before, Sherlock hid well. He himself kept busy through the night checking his severed head's saliva for his experimenting. By the time the sun started to peek through the creeks of the wood, Sherlock was done with his work.

Giving a long stretch for hovering over his microscope for so long was giving a knot in his back, probably still sore from the explosion. He had taken notice how quiet it was and got up to stride into the living room. There he found his fellow 'guard of the night' curled up in a ball sleeping on the couch. Her face buried into the pillows she was hugging. Breathing softly through her nose, a space between her lips proved to breath through there as well. The fact her shoes were on his couch bothered him, but how many times had he stood on the poor furniture with his own?

Hypocrite.

The sound of the people outside still inspecting the building across the street could still be heard, Helena groaned at the sound of a drill like noise roaring outside. "Is it morning?" She asked ,rubbing her eyes.

Sherlock looked down the hall to see it still dark outside the window of his room. "No, it's still dark. I'll be doing some loud experiments out here, you can sleep in my room. Just this once." He told sternly.

Helena chuckled and got up with a small stumble. "I don't care how loud, just don't destroy anything." She let out a yawn as she near waddled past the kitchen down the hall. Sherlock followed her halfway through, seeing her collapse onto his bed, but respectively took her shoes off. He was a bit surprised she didn't notice the head sitting on the counter, though he put it away and wandered back into the living room.

"I must say," Came a posh voice, Sherlock held in a groan and glanced over finding his brother glance around the room standing in the doorway. "This is indeed and 'explosion'."

"And what do I owe the welcoming of you this early in the morning?" Sherlock asked as he picked up his violin and bow, taking a seat in his chair. He placed the bow beside him on the floor and got himself as comfortable as he could glaring Mycroft.

* * *

Pain. Pain was something no one wanted. It wasn't real but might as well be. Dream pain was something a bit more scary some people found compared to real pain. With real you can put an effort to making it go away. Dream, it just continues and there's no possible way to make it fade.

Brown eyes slowly opened at the sound of life outside on the streets. Cheeks red and face soaked with sweat evidence of a nightmare. It felt short now awake, but in all sense it was just slow and torturous. That damn nightmare, that damn detective. Helena noted to punch him in the arm for making her think of that, but decided against it now seeing she was in his bed.

It was such comfort this bed was, she wished to sleep in such comfort every night and wake up to the warmth of the converters. She wasn't wrapped in them now as her hoodie kept her warm enough.

"Laid around enough." Helena groaned, sitting up and giving a long stretch. She glanced to the clock on the bedside. It was between morning and afternoon, so she didn't sleep too much in. Question was when did she fall asleep? Guess it didn't matter, where was Sherlock was a better question.

"Sherlock! Sherlock!" A call echoed up the stairs. John Watson.

"Oh, I never texted him." Helena sighed, getting off the couch and slipping her shoes on. "Sure, text his brother but not his room mate." Her face then paused in thought struggling with her left shoe. "On the up side, he got a night at Sarah's."

With a hop off the bed and fixing it just a tad, she leaned out the room listening to John and possibly Sherlock if still there.

"I saw it on the telly. Are you okay?" Asked John's voice filled with panic.

"Hmm? What?" A pause. "Oh, yeah. Fine. Gas leak, apparently." A pluck of a string most likely from Sherlock's violin. "I can't."

"Can't?" Came a third voice, one Helena knew.

"Bloody kidding me." She rubbed her palms into her eyes, leaning on the door frame.

"The stuff I've got on is just too big." More plucks from the instrument continued as he talked. "I can't spare the time."

"Never mind your usual trivia. This is of a national importance." Said Mycroft sounding impatient by Sherlock's answer.

Helena snuck into the kitchen, a small wave to Sherlock. He spotted her giving a loud high pitch plink on the violin. John was looking at the windows and checking for other damage not seeing her. Sherlock's eyes wandered over her then to his brother.

"How's the diet?" Sherlock questioned in a mock tone.

" _Fine."_ He near hissed, disliking when he brought that subject up.

Helena slithered herself to hide between the doors of the kitchen and the door to the stairs. She didn't want Mycroft to find her here, she didn't need John and Sherlock to know of her giving information to him. And if John saw her- well.

"Perhaps _you_ can get through to him, John." Mycroft offered.

"What?" John was a bit preoccupied checking the damage to even listen to what the brothers were talking about. He was currently checking the dining table.

"I'm afraid my brother can be very intransigent."

Sherlock by now was twisting the tuning pegs on his violin, strumming the strings now and again, finding it more important than his brother's pestering. "If you're so keen, why don't _you_ investigate it?"

"No, no, no, no, no. I can't possibly be away from the office for any length of time – not with the Korean elections so…" he trailed off finding the boys looking at him with interest at those words. "Well, you don't need to know about that do you?" Mycroft gave a facade smile to them, Helena rolled her eyes. "Besides, a case like this- it requires… Legwork."

A pluck of a high tune came out, Helena peeked out seeing the irritated look on Sherlock's face. She now understood why he considered him an enemy rather than a brother. John rubbed his neck turning around, Helena jumped out of sight. She didn't even want to be seen until Mycroft made his leave.

"How's Sarah, John?" Sherlock asked, shockingly interested. "How was the lilo?"

"Sofa, Sherlock." Mycroft corrected. "It was the sofa."

Sherlock took another look at John. "Oh yes, of course."

"How...? Oh, never mind." He took a seat at the coffee table, watching the brothers. Helena pondered on just jumping out of Sherlock's window and wait outside until Mycroft left.

"Sherlock's business seems to be booming since you and he became," A pause. "Pals." Helena resisted to groan and just place her head against the wall, she peeked in finding Sherlock casting a dark look to Mycroft. "What's he like to live with? Hellish, I imagine."

"I'm never bored." John answers.

"Good! That's good, isn't it? And how about that pet of yours?" Helena bit her lip, was he referring to who she thought?

"Pet?" John questioned.

"She's out on her walk, if you must know." Sherlock answered, giving the tight pluck to a string. Helena snorted at that, but quickly covered her mouth and nose. It was silent, then Mycroft's voice returned along with footsteps.

Peeking in, Helena saw Sherlock applying rosin to his bow, Mycroft was talking to John handing him a folder thick of papers. He was telling him about a death of Andrew West, he must want Sherlock to investigate that.

"The M.O.S. is working on a new missile defense system; The Bruce-Partington Programme, it's called." His eyes shot to Sherlock as Helena hid once more. "The plans for it were on a memory stick."

The sound of John sniggering could be heard. "That wasn't very clever."

Sherlock smiled in agreement, Helena nodded at his words. "It's not the only copy." Mycroft countered. "But it _is_ secret. And missing."

" _Top_ secret?"

"Very."

At this point Helena sat down on the floor, huddling her knees to her chest resting her chin on them. If she left back to the room John would see her in a certain angle or Mycroft could hear her. In all honestly, she wasn't all that curious to Mycroft's trouble that he wanted Sherlock to investigate. Sure, they were a major importance with missile plans and all, but taking a look at Sherlock proved he cared just as less as she did.

"You've got to find those plans, Sherlock. Don't make me order you." He told lowly, but with a smile.

Sherlock gave a sharp inhale through his nose, breaking eye contact on the kitchen and glancing to his brother calmly. "I'd like to see you try." He dared, propping the precious instrument on his shoulder.

"Think it over." He replied back in a threatening tone. Mycroft turned to John who quickly stood. "Goodbye, John." They shook hands. "See you and Helena _very_ soon."

Helena got to her feet and seeing Mycroft take his coat off the chair, indicating he was leaving. Sherlock delicately placed the bow on the strings and created a irritating scratching noise of notes on the violin. John knotted his brows giving him a look as Mycroft only grimaced at his brother's choice of goodbye. More like bugger off.

Helena covered her mouth to keep from laughing as Mycroft turned and left down the stairs. Sherlock gave a last note with an annoyed look to his brother's direction, then sighed lowering it off his shoulder. John took a seat once more at the table, Helena heard the footsteps fade off and decided to finally come out.

"Wow! Thought he'd never leave." She chuckled, coming out of the kitchen with a smile. "Morning John."

He blinked at her, not knowing she was even here. "H-How long have you been here?"

"Oh, just came in right as you were yelling up the stairs." She sighed, taking John's chair giving a short smile to Sherlock then back to John. "Sorry for not texting you about the explosion. I thought you deserve some time with Sarah."

John sighed with a weary smile. "No, everything seems… alright." He gave looking around the flat. "You weren't caught in the explosion, were you?"

"Oh no, I got your text and was coming over, but heard the loud 'boom' and came finding Sherlock-"

"All is fine." Sherlock cut in, giving Helena a look. Damn he didn't want John to know anything, did he?

John's attention was back at his flat mate. "Why'd you lie?"

Sherlock looks over to him as a door could be heard downstairs slam shut. "What?"

"You've got nothing on, not a single case. That's why the wall took a pounding." Helena glanced over to the wall he indicated with a nod, just now noticing the smiley face in yellow. "Why did you tell your brother you were busy?"

Sherlock shrugged, letting his bow rub against the back of his head. "Why shouldn't I?"

John stareed for a bit, then sat up straighter. "Oh!" He nodded, "Oh, I see." both eyes shot over to him. "Sibling rivalry. Now we're getting somewhere."

Sherlock was about to retaliate on John's theory, but his phone went off. He looked annoyed at first, whipping his bow down beside him. He fished it from his shirt pocket and answered it.

"Sherlock Holmes." After hearing the other end, his expression turned to curious. "Of course. How could I refuse?" He hung up and got to his feet, leaving his violin in his seat. "Lestrade." The two looked over at him. "I've been summoned. Coming?"

Sherlock walked across the room for his coat, John stood. "If you want me to."

"Of course." Helena stood taking the hint it was time for her to leave. "I'd be lost without my blogger and pet." She stopped in her tracks and looked to Sherlock, he sent her a wink before heading down the stairs throwing his coat on.

John glanced to her as she shook her head, but with a smile and walked with him down the stairs. As they called for a cab, Sherlock handed something to Helena; her cell phone. "Left it in the living room."

She groaned to herself and checked it as they climbed into the cab, one text message.

**How was the bed?  
MH**

* * *

Arriving at Scotland Yard, Helena realized this would be the official meeting of Greg Lestrade. Since Sherlock took care of her little crimes, she was assured by John she was fine entering the building. When they met up with him in the offices, Helena took a good look at the Detective Inspector. He had short grayish hair making him look older than Sherlock himself, dressed a bit like Sherlock though with a less tightly fit clothing to him. He looked to be stressed or tired, but that could be the work he was offering Sherlock. Not as tall as Sherlock but about taller than John and her.

"Sherlock, Dr. Watson." He greeted, then looked to Helena. "Sorry, who is this?"

"Ah, that's right. You two never officially met. Lestrade this is Helena also known as Hawkeye. Hawkeye, Lestrade." Sherlock smiled as Lestrade's features contorted to shock.

" _You're_ the thief!?" Eyes wide and hands on his hips.

"That's it; yell _that_ out where they arrest said thieves. I've changed, I swear." She held a hand up as the other was over her heart. "No more stealing, I work for Sherlock now." Helena held a hand out, though John could tell she was nervous meeting the man who had been chasing her for so long. "It was a good run." She praised.

Lestrade broke his stare and gently took her hand giving a firm shake. He had no idea _he_ was a _she_ until the last case where she was accused to being the murderer in the Blind Banker case. But now seeing her made him understand how fast and slick she could be with her petite figure.

They released hands, Lestrade taking a breath. "So, on with why I called you." He nodded for the group of three to follow him through the building. "You like the funny cases, don't you? The surprising ones."

"Obviously." Sherlock answered.

"You'll _love_ this. That explosion-"

"Gas leak, yes?"

Helena noticed dark skinned woman at her desk giving a glare to Sherlock. She took note of Sherlock giving an even glare back as they passed by. But her expression was to confusion seeing Helena. They continued their way, the 'pet' not caring who she was at the moment.

"No." Lestrade answered.

"No?" Sherlock questioned.

"No." He repeated. "Made to look like one."

"What?"

They entered Lestrade's office as Sherlock's eyes shot to a white envelope on his desk. "Hardly anything left of the place except a strong box- a very strong box- and inside it was this." He pointed to said item Sherlock stared at.

He glanced up. "You haven't opened it?"

"It's addressed to you, isn't it?" He retorted.

Sherlock reached toward it. "It's doesn't have an explosion in it, does it?" Helena asked, standing to Sherlock's left eying it up.

"No, we've X-rayed it. It's not booby-trapped." Lestrade answered.

He hesitated at those words, but went for it nonetheless. "How reassuring."

Sherlock picked up the envelope and walked across to the table in the corner that had a angle poise lamp to take a better look at it, never taking the gloves off. The boys watched from afar seeing his brain go to work, Helena stood closer wanting to see what he could see. He held the item close to the light examining both sides, the one side had 'Sherlock Holmes' written very elegantly.

"Nice Stationery." He commented. "Bohemian."

"What?" Lestrade asked, not hearing him.

"From the Czech Republic. No fingerprints?"

"No."

Helena got a vibe that he and Lestrade had known each other longer than he and John had. He knew every step Sherlock would make compared to John, who seemed to still be learning himself.

"She used a fountain pen. A Parker Duofold- iridium nib."

"She?" John asked.

"Obviously." Sherlock retorted.

"I know I never met a guy with handwriting like that." Helena gave agreeing with Sherlock.

John repeated Sherlock, trying not to sigh at him. Sherlock took the letter opener from the desk and with a delicate hand opened the letter careful of the paper and the item inside it. It was thick from what Helena has gathered making her think a bomb like device.

Sherlock dropped the opener with less care and slowly peeked inside, his lips parted at the sight and turned letting a pink iPhone slide into his hands. Helena frowned, a pink phone? Oh wait!

"But that's-" John caught on as well. "that's the phone, the pink phone."

"What, from the Study in Pink?" Lestrade indicated.

"Well, obviously it's not the same phone but it's supposed to look like-" His brain knocked on Lestrade's words and he turned to him. Helena turned, oh she wasn't the only reader. Her eyes found the woman from before standing in the doorway. "The Study in Pink? You read his blog?"

"'Course I read his blog!" Lestrade defended. "We all do. D'you _really_ not know that the Earth goes round the Sun?"

The woman sniggered loudly almost as if on purpose. The three look to her, two glaring; Sherlock and Helena. Sure it was common knowledge, but she discovered that must be what he and John's argument was about and knowing how Sherlock's mind worked.

"What else, Sherlock?" Helena asked, noticing the look he gave to the rude woman as she left.

He glanced to her then to the phone and flipped it over back to front, front to back, and all along the sides. "Someone's gone to a lot of trouble to make it _look_ like the same phone, which means your blog," He slightly spat to John. "has a far wider readership."

"So why a phone? Is it just as a little joke?" Helena asked as Sherlock tapped the button to activate it.

" _You have one new message. Pip, pip, pip, pip, pi-p"_

Helena frowned along with John at that. Though no one, not even Sherlock ssaid a thing, almost all were confused. But John heard nothing else with the tilt of his head. "Is that it?" He asked.

"No." Sherlock answered, staring at the phone. "That's _not_ it."

A ping came from a phone along with a photo. John and Helena leaned in to see the picture as Sherlock tilted the side to get a better look. An unfurnished room with a fireplace centered in the middle to the wall. Ugly wallpaper peeling with obvious signs of mold and even a chunk of tile leaning on the left corner. Lestrade came over to look at the photo himself, he was just as confused as the other two.

"What the hell are we supposed to make of that?" He questioned. "An estate agent's photo and the bloody Greenwich pips!"

"It's a warning." Sherlock told, he was gazing out in deep thought. He knew something the others didn't, as usual.

"A warning?" John asked.

He took a breath and looked to them. "Some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds, orange pips, things like that. Five pips." Helena's mind clicked in giving Sherlock the sign that she was in the same speed as him. "They're warning us it's gonna happen again." He looked back down at the photo the suddenly darted out to leave the office. "And I've seen this place before."

"H-Hang on, what's gonna happen again?" John asked, following right after with Helena and Lestrade.

All Sherlock's response was- "Boom!"

* * *

The four arrived back to Baker Street, two of the four didn't understand why here and just assumed Sherlock had to get something. But instead of going up the stairs, they went down the hall pass Mrs. Hudson's door and to the left that lead to a basement flat. Helena remembered Mrs. Hudson mentioned it before, that when Sherlock moved in he had a quick look but wasn't that impressed by it. She could tell he wasn't a fixer upper type, didn't blame him. The room was 221c.

"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock called out loudly making Helena jump a bit being right beside him where he turned to. The hall was growing crowded to her so she went off to get Mrs. Hudson and some air.

With a short explanation, Sherlock wanted the door unlocked to see inside. She gladly got the keys and followed her out, Sherlock had been staring- no examining the padlock waiting for the keys. Mrs. Hudson handed the keys to him.

"You had a look, didn't you, Sherlock, when you first came to see about your flat." Helena could tell Sherlock was once again ignoring her, wanting to get inside as he sped himself with the keys to the padlock and door lock.

"The door's been opened recently." Sherlock addressed as he got the padlock off with a bit of force.

Mrs. Hudson looked at him absurdly. "No, can't be. That's the only key." Sherlock handed the padlock to Helena as he went through the keys and worked on the keyhole. "I can't get anyone interested in this flat. It's the damp, I expect. That's the curse of basements." She suddenly turned to Helena with a smile. "You should take a look to live here, the boys would love that!"

The Hawk blinked at her sudden suggestion. "Oh, t-thank you Mrs. Hudson. I have a place that suits me well." She assured.

John took a glance to the women hearing part of the conversation. Sherlock by then had the door unlocked and slunk in as Mrs. Hudson was starting her innocent chatting ear off mode. "I had a place once when I was first married. Black mold all up the walls…"

The last two men followed after, trailing Mrs. Hudson off. "Oh! Men!" She huffed and left back to her flat, Helena smiled and shook her head going in with the boys.

Inside, Helena expected it to be as empty as it was in the photo. It was, but the pair of sneakers in the middle proved to be not so empty. The four stared at the them, John stating the obvious, "Shoes." just above a whisper.

Helena looked around for cameras, mics, wires- anything in case the place was rigged. Her ears heard only the breathing of John and Lestrade alone with the floor creaking to someone's movement. Her eyes shot over seeing Sherlock daring to approach the foot wear.

"He's a bomber, remember." John pointed out making Sherlock pause for a moment, then continue with his careful steps.

Sherlock crouched own, placed his hands on the floor, and leaned forward to scan over the sneakers in case there was a bomb on or inside them. Everyone held their breath, Helena was about to take a step when a loud ringing echoed out. It was enough to make Sherlock give a small jump at that, he closed his eyes with a silent sigh cursing mentally. John jumped as well, Helena just bit her lip and took a step back to her spot pretending the tension wasn't even there. The tall detective stood back up, pulling the pink phone out reading the screen. NUMBER BLOCKED. The bomber no doubt?

None the less, Sherlock swiped the screen and pressed the speaker button. "Hello?"

A shaky breath responded back, scared and upset. "H-Hello… Sexy." Came a shaky woman's voice. Helena moved closer, seeing the number blocked but listened in. John and Lestrade gave one another a puzzled look, that obviously was not the bomber. But who?

"Who's this?" Sherlock questioned, a small sob came from the device.

"I've… sent you.. a little puzzle…" She gave another small sob, Helena glanced to the other two then back at Sherlock who just stared at the phone. "...just to say hi."

"Who's talking? Why are you crying?" He questioned, clearly not in concern but for further information.

A breath was taken. "I-I'm not… crying… I'm typing.."

Helena's mind then clicked it together. She turned to them mouthing 'hostage' to them. John's shoulders tensed as he rubbed a hand down his face. Lestrade shook his head and continued to listen.

"...an this… stupid… bitch… is reading it out." The only female in the room bit her knuckle.

The woman sobbed softly into the phone as Sherlock was now gazing thoughtfully at the wall. "The curtain rises."

"What?" John questioned, not properly hearing him. Helena rose a brow at his words.

"Nothing." He dismissed.

"No, what did you mean?" John urged wanting to know.

"Curtain rises?" Helena repeated, bringing her hand down to her side done abusing her knuckle between her teeth.

Sherlock turned his head halfway at them. "I've been expecting this for some time."

The woman's voice returned with another sob and a deep breath. Sherlock turned back, raising the phone back up to hear. "Twelve hours to solve… my puzzle, Sherlock… or I'm going… to be… so naughty." The line suddenly cut dead.

"Now what do we do?" John asked.

"I think now we just," Helena looked to them. "Do what Sherlock does best." The two looked at her then to him, she turned as he just stared at the sneakers. "He want's Sherlock to solve this, just him and him alone."

She made her way across to the door, Sherlock glanced over. "Wait, where are you going?" John asked taking a step over.

Helena looked at the three with brows up. "Like I said, Sherlock has to solve it." She shrugged, raising her hands up. "I got nothing on this one. Let me know how it goes though." With a wink, Helena was out the door.

"Lestrade, I'll be looking these over at St. Barts." He informed.

* * *

"So he can handle this one?" Trevor asked, walking on the higher steps with his arms stuck out to keep his balance.

"I think so," Hawk answered walking ahead of him on the same level as him. Though her hands were shoved in her pockets and hood over her head. "He'll text me if anything pops up. But in this situation, I think it's too risky to rely on others."

"Makes sense. He has done it before alone, right?" He asked, "I mean, it's not like- Woah!" Hawk turned reaching out grabbing the collar of his jacket, pulling his balance back. "Thanks." He sighed, as he looked under the highway.

Helena crouched then jumped down, and looked up to Trevor. "Was it here?" She asked as he struggled a bit to climb down not wanting to break his legs at the height of the wall to the ground.

"A-A little always. Oof!" He grunted as he fell to the ground, trying to land on his feet. She just shook her head at him with a grin. "Wouldn't it be great to have with the cold weather growing?"

"Yup," She agreed as he got to his feet and led her under the highway. "I just need to check to make sure it's alright and safe. Also no critters taken a home to it."

"If so?" He questioned going around a large pillar.

"Then we can't take it." She informed and followed around seeing it's glory. "Ah, perfect!" She grinned jogging to the steel triangular outdoor chimney. It had its age and seemed to just been thrown out here along with other trash around that Trevor was currently looking at.

"Alright, anybody home?" She knocked on the side earning an echo from inside, waited, nothing flew or ran out nor any sounds inside. "Looks like it's up for a buy." Hawk went into her back pocket, pulling out her mini torch and clicking it on. "Now an inspection."

Trevor was a good few feet away frowning at some torn up small bits of furniture and once was worth to have clothing. "It's a shame there's nothing more here, eh, Hawkeye?"

"What-"

**BOOM!**

* * *

Sherlock had spent a good amount of hours to examine and collect what ever information he can on the shoes. John watched from afar, knowing not to give his opinion on anything. He sure hoped Helena had joined, he was getting used to her company with him and Sherlock. Though showing concern was a mistake he apparently made with the detective as he showed no concern on the hostage.

It wasn't until he heard Sherlock ask him, "Pass me my phone?"

His eyes wandered around the room, looking for it. "Where is it?"

"Jacket."

John looked at him, almost a mix of disbelief and annoyance. Now he really wished Helena was here, imagining her going to get his phone and maybe teasing him by sneaking his wallet off him. But alas, he was stuck here alone with him. Without a word, the doctor marched around the table clapping his hand on Sherlock's shoulder and started to search for the phone, and not too gently.

"Careful." Sherlock spat, showing he was a bit temperamental by the rough rummaging.

John bit his tongue, reminding himself it wouldn't be worth it to punch him right now. But he succeeded in getting the phone and read the message. "Text from your brother-"

"Delete it." Sherlock told without hesitation.

John gave a skeptic look. "Delete it?"

"Missile plans are out of the country now. Nothing we can do about it." Sherlock explained.

John glanced down at the message again.

**Any progress on Andrew**  
West's death?  
Mycroft.

"Well, Mycroft thinks there is. He's texted you eig-nine times. Must be important." He informs looking through one that caught his eye.

**Is your pet on her leash?  
Mycroft**

His brows furrowed, who was this pet?

"Then why didn't he cancel his dental appointment?" Sherlock questioned. finally looking away from his microscope.

John only released a tired sigh, but asked anyway. "His what?"

"Mycroft never texts if he can talk. Look, Andrew West stole the missile plans, tried to sell them, got his head smashed in for his pains. End of story." He took a breath. "The only mystery is this; why is my brother so determined to bore me when somebody else is being so delightfully interesting?" His eyes focused back into the microscope, ending the conversation.

John licked his lips and bit the bottom one looking back down at the phone. Turning it off, he placed it on the table. "Try and remember there's a woman here who might die."

"What for?" Sherlock looked up at John, somehow looking as equally annoyed as the doctor. "This hospital is full of people dying, Doctor." He near spat. "Why don't you go and cry by _their_ bedside and see what good it does them?"

John was now physically restraining himself to hit Sherlock after that. He turned away in complete disbelief by his words. Now he really _really_ wished Helena was here. With Sherlock's phone off, three messages were sent to his phone. One from Mycroft, two from Hawkeye.


End file.
